


Where the Demons Sleep

by HysteriaLevi



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Romance, cobblebats - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaLevi/pseuds/HysteriaLevi
Summary: ONE YEAR BEFORE SEASON ONEWhile Bruce takes over his father's criminal empire and terrorizes Gotham from the underworld, Oswald is forced to survive on his own in England, and ends up getting caught in a storm that eventually turns him into the Penguin. Little does he know however, that the man who he considers to be his worst enemy is also his future lover.





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all my readers who have been supporting my stories so far, and thanks for taking the time to check this one out. This story might be a little different from my other fanfics (since Telltale hasn't really made a game I can base it on), but I hope you like it anyways and please, feel free to send me feedback anytime. Enjoy! :)
> 
> -Levi

From Oswald’s POV

19 YEARS AGO

COBBLEPOT PARK

Sitting on the wooden park bench, I solemnly stared at the airplane ticket in my hands, just...watching...as tiny droplets of rain dotted its surface, and the chilling wind caused its thin material to flap. This was certainly not what I was expecting when my friend asked me to meet them here, and I still couldn’t decide whether or not it was safe to trust them. I gazed up at him.

“...I’m...going to England?” I questioned, receiving a sympathetic nod.

“It’s the only way, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Gotham is no longer safe for you, or your family, and my master is still hunting you down. You must leave...as soon as possible. Perhaps my friends in England will be able to help you.”

I hesitated. “...but what about Bruce? I can’t just leave him.”

He sighed. “I understand that the two of you are very close friends, and I have no doubts that Bruce will miss you once you depart, but he’s well aware of how dire your situation is. Your safety is more important right now. You need to leave Gotham.”

Slipping the ticket into my jacket, I quickly shielded it from the thickening rain as my friend stepped closer, fitting us both under his umbrella. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I’m...so sorry...for everything that’s happened to you, Oswald. Your parents were good people -- some of the few left in this city. Neither of them deserved such an end.” He shook his head in a disapproving manner. “I always knew Thomas was up to something sinister, but I had no idea that his crimes were this heinous. If I had discovered his plans sooner...”

My eyes fell to the pavement, drooping in sorrow. 

“...why are you even helping me anyways, Alfred? Thomas is your boss. If he finds out what you’ve done...”

The butler didn’t seemed frightened by that idea. “Let him. I no longer fear his wrath. And besides, I’m not acting alone in aiding you.”

I quirked a brow at him. “You’re not? Who else is there?”

Alfred adjusted his glasses. “Martha. Thomas’ own wife, no less. It was her idea to buy this ticket, you see. She couldn’t bear to watch you suffer the same fate as your parents. You’re almost like a second son in her eyes.”

“That’s...very thoughtful of her.”

He lowered his head in guilt. “I know this is all incredibly unfair, and no child should have to go through this, but the best we can do now is survive. England is your best chance at that.”

I was still uncertain. “And what am I supposed to do in England?”

“One of my friends, Hugh Braxton, is expecting your arrival,” Alfred explained. “He runs a small business in Essex, one that you could possibly become a part of, and much like you, he has a violent history with Mayor Hill. You can trust him.”

When I said nothing in response, the butler knelt down to my eye-level and glanced at my father’s bust, letting out a frustrated breath. 

“I promise you, Oswald, I will do everything I can to ensure Thomas’ criminal activity ceases to continue. It...will be a task much easier said than done, but if you can hold on for just a bit longer, I’m certain you’ll return to Gotham someday. But we must be patient. Acting recklessly will get us nowhere. You understand, don’t you?”

I slowly nodded, reluctant to admit that Alfred was right. As much as I wanted to get revenge on Thomas, and make him pay for everything he did to my family, I had to remember -- I was still only a child. At the moment, there was nothing I could do. No one I could turn to. Going after him now would’ve just ended up making things worse. All I could do was wait. My time would come eventually, and Thomas would answer for his crimes someday...just not now.

“...I understand.”

Alfred smiled. “You’re a clever boy, Oswald. You’ll make it. Now, go on and pack your things, and try to get some rest. The road ahead of you is a long and brutal one, but I have faith that you can survive. England awaits.”


	2. A New Life

From Oswald’s POV

PRESENT DAY

LONDON

The crowd roared with cheers and screams as another one of my challengers collapsed to the floor, the referee beginning the countdown while the entire audience counted along with him. As far as I could tell, the fallen boxer seemed to be completely unconscious, and his body remained motionless while I watched from one of the corners of the ring, barely having broken a sweat yet. 

Over the past week or so, it felt as if I was spending more time in the ring than in my own house -- if you could call it that -- what with the amount of people who were willing to try their hand against me. Apparently, I was becoming quite “famous,” according to my colleagues, and almost the entire city of London knew me by now. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

The crowd suddenly went wild again, and everyone began whooping and shouting as the referee got back into position. I broke out of my thoughts, and looked to see what was happening.

To my surprise, the boxer who had been knocked down earlier managed to get back up, barely balancing on his noodle-ish legs as the fight continued. It wasn’t that he was weak -- he was actually significantly bigger and more built than I -- but judging by the blue and black bruises decorating his swollen face, and the way he stumbled around, it didn’t look like he’d last much longer.

And I was right. He couldn’t even react before I was already throwing punches left and right at a speed so fast that my fists fused into a violent blur, and he attempted to dodge the attacks, but to no avail. It was like something you’d see in a cartoon.

I had to say, the way his friends gaped at me from the thick crowd was more than amusing, and it only motivated me to push harder in addition to the encouraging cheers I was receiving. Everyone’s eyes were nailed onto me at the moment, and the longer the fight carried on, the more rowdy they became. I decided it was time to execute the finishing blow.

For my final move, I slammed my knuckles into the other man’s jaw with so much force that I’m pretty sure I saw a few teeth fly out -- one of them shimmering with a golden twinkle -- as he plummeted backwards like a giant that had just been slain. It looked like a real-life David and Goliath.

The referee rushed over and knelt beside him, beginning the countdown once again as the audience began firing up before he even finished, my opponent’s supporters among them. It was clear to them who the victor of this match was.

“KNOCKOUT!” The referee announced. The crowd erupted into an ecstatic frenzy, yelling and jumping as I paraded around the ring, my arms spread out to my sides while the other man was dragged off, groaning and grunting in agony. 

It was moments like these that made all the pain worth the struggle, and there were still times when even I found myself unable to believe my success. 

As a child, I was pushed around and bullied by men twice my size, treated like nothing but a piece of rubbish. All the adults used to come to my rescue, so sure that I wouldn’t be able to stand up to them on my own, and my entire school ridiculed me for it. But now, I was the one beating them into the dirt. No revenge had ever felt nicer.

Unfortunately, before I could bask in my own glory any longer, an all-too-familiar voice called out to me from the side, completely diverting my attention. I muttered a quiet curse under my breath.

“Cobblepot!”

Turning to greet my guest, I spotted the one and only Hugh Braxton standing in a doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets and a cigarette sticking out from between his stern lips. I tried to keep it casual.

“Somethin’ you need, Braxton?” I replied. The man gestured for me to follow him.

Hastily stepping out of the ring, I quickly swiped a towel across my forehead and pulled my shirt back on, almost sprinting to keep up with the other man’s pace. I couldn’t deny that I was just a bit worried. Normally, Braxton didn’t come after me unless he had a job for me to complete, or I had done something wrong. I wondered which one it was this time.

Trailing behind the taller man, I subtly examined him from a distance, noticing that something seemed...off about him. I mean, Braxton always looked like someone had pissed in his tea anyways, despite his gentle-blue eyes, but he appeared especially annoyed today. It made me uneasy. 

“Is...everything all right, Hugh?” I asked. He scoffed, puffing out a small cloud of smoke.

“If they were, we wouldn’t be workin’ for fuckin’ William Kane. Now just follow me, and try to keep your mouth shut.”

Falling into silence, I avidly tried to stay close to Braxton as we passed by other members of the gang, all of them snickering and muttering amongst themselves once they saw me. Clearly, the ring was the only place where I would get any amount of respect. Other than that, I was pretty much the laughing stock of William’s gang. I supposed that’s what happened when your dead father was a millionaire. People thought you had it “easy.”

Opening the door to his office, Braxton allowed me to walk in first before shutting the door behind us, double-checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping, and silencing the people who were teasing me with a simple glare. I might’ve been an easy target, but it was common sense around here not to anger Braxton. He may not have been at the top of this organization, but he was certainly close. Screwing with him often meant a death sentence. 

Entering the warm atmosphere of his office, I took a seat at the desk and waited for Braxton to do the same, eager to hear what all the fuss was about. He was clearly upset at something, and what worried me even more was that I might’ve been the cause. I guessed I’d find out soon.

“...pricks.” I heard Braxton mutter as he sat across from me, tossing his hat onto the desk and revealing the dirty-blond hair underneath.

“Laughin’ at the men who are holding their gang together,” he continued to rant. “And William wonders why I can’t stand him.”

I leaned back. “Will you tell me what’s going on now?”

Resting his elbows on the table, Braxton tapped a bit of ash off his cigarette before answering. He sighed in annoyance.

“...where’s the fuckin’ money, Oz?” 

Shit. So that’s what this was about.

“Look,” I said in defense, “I’m still gathering it, but it’s been hard lately. Customers don’t exactly pour in anymore. They’re too scared of William’s men, and I can’t really control that.”

Braxton rubbed his temple. “The only reason William didn’t burn us to the ground with our business is because of you, Oz. He knows people enjoy watchin’ you in the ring, and better than that, he knows it brings money in. If he finds out you’re struggling, he’ll see us as useless, and most-likely kill us. We’re kinda tryin’ to survive here, in case you forgot.”

“How did we even end up workin’ for the Kanes anyways?”

The other man glowered. “You can thank my idiot brother for that. Because our business was declining back at home, he borrowed a shit ton of money from William without knowing who he was, and when we couldn’t pay it back, William agreed to spare our lives...only if we worked for him and paid our debt. But of course, our debt will never actually be paid if William has any say in it. So basically, we’re stuck with him.”

I opened my hands, asking for suggestions. “So, what would you have me do? It ain’t like I can just make money appear.”

A grin came to Braxton’s face. “Well, fortunately for us, I may have a way outta this. Tell me, have you heard of Albert Brannigan?”

I shrugged. “Only a little. I’ve heard William mention his name a few times. Why d’you ask?”

Braxton stood up from his seat. “Brannigan is one of the strongest members of William’s rival gang, and is practically a walking bank for ‘em. He’s got endless pockets of money, and as long as he lives, William’s gonna have a hell of a time trying to beat our enemies. I don’t really know more than that since William never talks to me about nothin’, but I do know that he’ll be attending a banquet later this week.”

“And lemme guess,” I said, “you want me to kill him.” Braxton shook his head.

“Not kill him. Bring him to us alive, so that we can use his money instead.”

I gave him an unsure look. “You really think he’d just...join us? Just like that?”

Braxton picked up his hat and headed for the door. “Obviously, you’re gonna have to persuade him somehow, whether with words or with force, but I’m sure you’ll think of somethin’. You’re clever like that.”

I smirked. “You think I’m clever, do you?”

His face flattened. “Well...most of the time, at least. Now get back out there. The ring isn’t the same without its champion. Oh, and come back to me later. I might have more info about Brannigan for you.”

Strolling out of the office, Braxton halted in his steps for a second and glanced over his shoulder to say one last thing, his stern expression fading away slightly.

“Stay safe, Oz. I know William can be a pain in the arse, and believe me, I want him dead as much as you do, but try not to provoke him. Not yet, anyways. Alfred sent you my way so I could protect you, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do just that.” He stuck the cigarette back between his lips. “Don’t worry. Our time will come. We just have to wait.”

I sighed, crossing my arms. “I’ve been waitin’ for nineteen years, Hugh.”

He placed his hat on, waving a casual goodbye. “And that’s nineteen years closer to when we’ll finally get our revenge.”


	3. The Prince of Gotham

From Bruce’s POV

GOTHAM -- WAYNE MANOR

With a defeaning bang, the prisoner let out an agonizing shriek that echoed off the cave’s walls as he fell to the floor, clutching his now wounded leg while the rest of us simply stood there, watching him. The room was dead silent, and no one dared to speak as I approached him, smoking pistol in hand.

“...w-why!?” The prisoner wailed, sniffling. “Why are you doing this...!? I’ve done everything you asked!”

I prepared another bullet, and aimed the gun at his head.

“And you’ve done it all so well...but you’re a loose end now. To let you live would be a risk.”

The prisoner held a shaky hand up in defense and tried crawling away from me, leaving a pool of blood behind him.

“W-wait,” he whimpered, “please! I’ll do whatever you want...! I have connections, resources -- I could help you out!”

I scoffed, almost amused by the laughable offer. “I don’t need your help.”

Before I could even pull the trigger however, Hill had jumped in, stepping between me and my target. I grimaced at him.

“Hill,” I ordered, “get out of my way.”

He stayed in place, refusing to move. 

“Hold on, Bruce. Perhaps...perhaps we should keep the boy alive, and have him work for us. I mean, he has proven to be useful. I don’t see why we couldn’t take him in. There’s no harm in recruiting an extra ally, is there?” 

I heard Falcone chuckle. “And since when were you the merciful type, Ham? I don’t remember you showin’ this sort of sympathy with the poor folks back at Arkham."

Hill shifted his attention to the crime boss. “Those men and women were our enemies, Falcone. Of course I showed no sympathy towards them.”

“But you’ll vouch for some random kid that we plucked from the streets?”

“All I’m saying, Carmine,” Hill reiterated, “is that it wouldn’t hurt to consider the prisoner’s offer. He’s quite more skilled than the brutes we normally hire, and also much more efficient. It would be a waste to throw away such potential, don’t you think?”

I lowered my gun for a moment, glaring at Hill in disbelief. 

“Potential? I’m not here to train puppies, Hill. I gave this boy a job to complete, and it’s done. Our business is concluded. You out of all people should know how this works. After all...is this not the same process you went through when you had my parents killed?”

The older man stuttered. “...I-I...yes. Of course, Bruce. I...shouldn’t have interfered.” He gave me an insincere look. “I...apologize.”

I gestured for him to step aside, shaking my head in disapproval. “Keep this up, old man, and someday, an apology won’t be enough to save you. Now, for the second and last time -- Get. Out. Of my. Way.”

With this warning in head, Hill skulked off until he was out of view and stuck to the shadows as I resumed my current task, raising the gun once more. 

The prisoner trembled. “...wait--”

But it was too late. Before he could even finish his sentence, I had already pulled the trigger and silenced him with a thunderous bullet to the brain, causing his body to topple over like a lifeless rag doll. I holstered the gun and adjusted my tie, straightening my suit.

“Well, that’s done. Now, someone get in here and clean up this mess. Meanwhile, I need to have a chat with William.” I turned to the mayor. “Hill, why don’t you bring him up on the computer?” It was more of a command than a question.

He obeyed. “...right away, sir.”

As the rest of my men took their leave, and dragged the prisoner’s body with them, both Falcone and I stayed behind, patiently waiting for William to answer our call as Hill contacted him. It had been a while since I talked with the old gangster, and as time passed on, I only wondered more and more how things were going on over in England. I had a vague idea thanks to the regular reports I received from William, but hopefully, things were as well as when I last checked. I supposed I would find out soon enough.

After a few moments of blackness, an image suddenly flashed onto the large screen, revealing the one and only William Kane himself as his face centered on the monitor. He still had the same, elegant silver hair and deep-green eyes as before, and as always, he wore a stone-cold expression, refusing to show any kind of emotion. The man was like a living statue. 

“Mister Wayne,” he greeted. “It’s been some time. I trust you’re doing well?”

“Well enough, considering Gotham’s current state,” I replied. “That woman you wanted dead -- Vivienne King -- my people have just finished assassinating her.”

William paused. “...and the assassin?”

I grinned. “Dead. Took care of him myself just moments ago. Didn’t want any loose ends hanging around.”

The gangster laughed in a praising tone. “I like your style, Bruce. You’re far more reliable than any of these hooligans I have under my wing. Thank you for your efforts. Vivienne was starting to become quite the nuisance.”

I quirked a brow. “What was she even doing?”

William let out a breath. “Vivienne had been fighting against me for a while anyways, but she became especially persistent once I imprisoned her brother, Aiden, as a way to keep her at bay. She started attacking my agents in Gotham, destroying our weapon supplies -- basically anything that would inconvenience me. I finally decided that enough was enough...and that’s where you came in. Tell me, where did you even find an assassin? I’m aware Gotham is full of murderers, but it takes more than killing to be an assassin.”

I casually rested my hands in my pockets, smirking. “It’s an interesting story, actually. I was just out on my own one day, when I caught this young man trying to pickpocket me. He was a boy barely into his twenties, and instead of turning him into the authorities, I decided to put his sneaky methods to good use. Flashed a bunch of cash in front of him, and he was practically eating out of my hand. Didn’t bother asking any questions.”

William nodded in understanding. “Not many have the audacity to attempt stealing from Bruce Wayne. That type of boldness combined with a talent for stealth, a hunger for money, and a naive mind...I can see why you chose him. A wise decision. And you say you killed him already?”

“Yes. My men are getting rid of his body as we speak.”

The gangster seemed pleased. “Good...good. Well, I hate to cut this short, but I have many things to attend to before the day is done. It was nice getting a chance to catch up with you, Bruce. Stay safe out there.”

“And you, William.”

And with that said, the screen shrunk to darkness once again, leaving the three of us alone in the cave as I began shutting down all my equipment and making my way out. I turned to face Falcone and Hill.

“You’re free to go. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up, but for now, we should have a second to breathe. Enjoy it while you can.”

Hill wasted no time in fleeing the cave and getting away from me, but before I could even move another inch, Falcone had grabbed my arm and pulled me back, holding me in place until we were completely alone. I shot a puzzled glance at him.

“What?” I questioned. Falcone leaned forward, bringing his voice down to a whisper.

“Now that it’s just us two, there is one other matter I think we should discuss. You’re not gonna like it, but it’s been bothering me for long enough.”

I looked over at the cave’s exit. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s about Hill.”

Falcone chuckled. “It that obvious? And here I was hoping to make it a surprise for you. Like a little present.” He let go of my arm. “But all jokes aside, I can’t be the only one who found it strange that Ham was so willing to stick his neck out for that kid. I mean, c’mon, it’s Ham. If he truly cared about people, he wouldn’t be a politician.”

I narrowed my eyes in agreement. “I’m not gonna lie, I did find that a bit odd. Why? What are you implying?”

“Nothing for now, but I’m starting to suspect that he and that assassin may have...known...each other somehow, if you catch my meaning. Like he wanted you to catch him stealing from you. I wouldn’t start panicking over it just yet, but it’s something to keep in mind. “

“Good advice. Thanks, Carmine.”

He sauntered past me. “Of course. Anythin’ for my nephew.” 

Falcone sighed in reminiscence, gazing at nothing specific. “...Tommy would be proud, y’know. This might not have been the life he had in mind for you, but you’re doing a hell of a job, carrying on his legacy. I don’t doubt he’d be overjoyed to see where you are now.”

I smiled. “I appreciate the thought.”

He switched back to his normal, casual self. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you’ve got better things to attend to, and I’ve wasted enough of your time. Just try to keep your head out there, yeah? Someone’s gotta run Gotham.”

Falcone and I walked side-by-side towards the cave’s exit, waiting as the lift steadily descended.

“Just make sure you keep your head too,” I joked. “That ‘someone’ is gonna need help running this city. Or just running in general.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t worry, Bruce. Ham can try whatever he wants, but I’ve known the man for decades. He won’t take us by surprise. Though, I wouldn’t act against him just yet. After all, this is just a theory. I have no actual solid proof to back my suspicions, but I promise you, if any evidence shows up, you’ll be the first to see it. Hell, you’ll probably be the one who finds it.”

Stepping into the lift, I slipped my phone out and typed a quick text to a friend, making sure that my gun was out of sight.

“Well, until that time comes, it’d probably be best if we pretended not to know anything. The only time people act as their true selves is when they think no one is watching.”


	4. A Face from the Past

From Oswald’s POV

Wiping sweat from my brow, I continued to slam my fists into the punching bag as it swayed from the ceiling, dangling with a soft, metallic rattle. Most of the gangsters were already asleep by now, and I was actually starting to feel quite fatigued myself, but I wanted to get as much training in as possible. My situation with William was precarious enough with all the money I owed him, and knowing the type of man he was, I had no intentions to make things worse. Yet.

Taking a short break, I gently unwrapped the bandages from my sore hands and wandered over to my bed, plopping down onto its somewhat plush mattress. I couldn’t remember the last time I got a full night’s rest, and I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be wide-awake. Between helping Braxton deal with our new boss, and trying to keep William satisfied with me, every day was a constant struggle, and I dreamt of the day that we could be on our own again. Unleashed, and out of debt. That may not have sounded like much of a goal to other people, but to me, it was paradise. 

Scanning my eyes over the numerous tattoos on my arms, I thought back to when I got each of them, memories flooding my head. Some of them had been done out of impulse, purely for looks, and didn’t really have much meaning to me. The rest however, practically turned my body into a walking photo album. It was almost like looking back into the past -- back to a time when my biggest worries would’ve been a sigh of relief today, and I was still living the dream in Gotham. I only hoped that I could turn that into my future too.

Suddenly, before I could think anymore, I heard a series of rapid knocks come from the door, followed by a soft, innocent voice calling my name. I instantly knew who it was: Rosie.

“...Oz?” She quietly said. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” I replied, mumbling more than I intended, “gimme a second. I’ll be right there.”

Forcing myself out of bed, I tiredly trudged over to the entrance and put on my best “awake” face, trying to hide the sheer exhaustion that was slowly turning me into a corpse. It was quite late at the moment, and as far as I was concerned, William didn’t like his people talking with me or Braxton, so what the hell was Rosie doing here? I mentally sighed. Maybe she wanted to talk more about our “relationship,” and how she’d like it to go a step forward. After all, it was pretty obvious that the girl held feelings for me, and she wasn’t exactly the best at hiding them.

Opening the door, I found Rosie standing a bit far away from my room, waiting patiently in the hall with some sort of file in her hands. Her long, red hair was tied in an elegant bun, and she wore a rather modest, grey dress along with some black tights and heels to match. Her eyes were bashfully turned away from mine, and she gazed awkwardly around the corridor, hoping not to make contact. What was wrong with her?

“Rosie,” I greeted, “didn’t expect to see you, out of all people. What’re you doin’ here at this hour?”

An apologetic look spread across her face. “I’m sorry, Oz. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s all right. It’s just -- what about William? You know your father doesn’t like when you talk to me. Or any man, for that matter. But especially me.”

Rosie stepped closer to me and lowered her voice until it was a mere whisper, double-checking to see if anyone unwanted was listening. 

“Actually,” she handed me the mysterious file, “Braxton sent me. He told me to give this to you, but he didn’t say what it was.”

Taking the file into my hand, I curiously skimmed through its contents before allowing Rosie inside and shutting the door behind us, both of us eager to discover what Braxton had delivered. 

Inside the folder, I found multiple photographs of a man who was apparently Albert Brannigan himself, along with documents containing his personal information. Brannigan was a stout, sleazy-looking, middle-aged man who may as well have had the words, “don’t trust me” printed on his forehead. Everything about him -- from his skeptical glare to the way he held his nose high in the air -- just screamed “bad news.” It reminded me a little too much of Hill, and frankly, I wasn’t surprised that William was enemies with him. Though, what really caught my attention was one of Brannigan’s other accomplices.

Alongside him and his friends, there was a third man who also appeared quite frequently in Brannigan’s company, and I found it nearly impossible to take my eyes away from him. He had neat, black hair, a clean-shaven face, and fierce blue eyes. Unlike the others however, he wasn’t decrepit or elderly...in fact, he looked significantly younger. Almost...handsome. Who was he? And why did he seem so familiar? I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t slightly attracted to him. 

“Well?” Rosie said, tearing me from my thoughts. “What is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Closing the folder, I casually tossed it onto my desk and pulled out a cigarette before taking a seat next to Rosie as she waited for a response. Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I could still feel her big, emerald eyes peering at me with interest, and I debated whether or not to tell her the full truth. Rosie was nothing like her father, and I trusted her more than a lot of the people here, but with what Braxton and I were trying to accomplish, letting any of William’s men in on our plan was a huge risk already. Not to mention when it was his bloody daughter. I supposed I could just keep out the details.

“Just some info on Albert Brannigan.” I answered. Rosie quirked a brow.

“Brannigan? Why are you interested in him?”

I breathed out a trail of smoke. “He’s our enemy. Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

“I just...wasn’t aware that you knew about him. I know my father rarely talks about anything in front of you. Especially when it concerns business.”

I shrugged, grinning. “I have my ways.”

Rosie let out a defeated sigh and averted her gaze from me. I could see her frowning a little. 

“...I know you probably don’t trust me, Oz,” she began, “and...I don’t blame you. I mean, considering how my father treats you, it only makes sense, but I just want you to remember -- if you ever need help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My father may not care for you, but I do. So please, if there’s anything you need assistance with, let me know. I’m here.”

Thinking about her offer, I put the cigarette back up to my lips and pondered the option of asking Rosie about who that third man was, if she even knew. Braxton and I weren’t the only ones who William kept information from, and I doubted he would be open with Rosie, seeing how protective he was towards her. Oh well. It was worth a shot. 

Standing up and walking over to the desk, I retrieved the file before returning to Rosie and showing her the photographs of Brannigan.

“Actually, there is something I’ve been wondering about.”

Her frown disappeared. “Oh? What is it?”

I pointed a finger at Brannigan’s accomplice. “This man. Do you know who he is?”

Rosie examined his features for a moment, her face lighting up with realization as her nose crinkled slightly in anger.

“Oh. Him,” her tone was oddly unfriendly. “I’ve only met him once in person, but I hope it stays that way.”

I chuckled. “Is he that bad?”

Rosie crossed her arms. “He’s not mean or anything -- in fact, he’s very good at acting like a gentleman. But you can just...tell....he’s always scheming something, you know? Nothing about him ever seems sincere. His name’s Bruce Wayne.”

My jaw hit the floor, and I had to take a minute to process what Rosie just told me. I froze.

“...B-Bruce...Wayne?” I repeated, not blinking once. “The...Bruce Wayne? As in the pretty, rich boy from Gotham?”

Rosie appeared surprised. “You know him?”

I scoffed. “Know him? We were like brothers as kids. He was the only true friend I ever had. I can’t...I can’t believe that’s him. What’s he doing with Brannigan?”

Taking a closer look at the photo, I found myself staring at Bruce for a while longer, still in shock at how much he’s grown. For the past two decades, I had been imaging Bruce as the same, cute little boy that I met back in grade school, and it was sort of strange to see him as an adult. To be honest, he didn’t look too different now, but there was still...something...about him that seemed off. And not in the good way.

It was mostly in his eyes. The way he looked at you...it wasn’t a glare necessarily, but there was no compassion behind it either. He was just...cold. No, not even cold -- just emotionless. There was nothing there, and that worried me. I hoped he didn’t grow up to become like his father. 

“...Oz?” 

I snapped back to reality, only to find Rosie staring at me with concern.

“Yeah?” 

She furrowed her brow.

“Are you okay?”

I slipped the photo back into the file, pretending as if I never saw it. “Yeah, yeah,” I quickly replied. “I’m good. It’s just...weird to see Bruce after all these years, y’know. I wonder if he even still remembers me.”

“If you two were as close as you say, then I have no doubt that he does. Though, he’s probably not the same person you’re used to.”

I sighed. “Hardly anyone is.”

Standing up from her seat, Rosie began heading towards the door. “Well, I should get going. It’s pretty late, and you need to rest. You’ve got a lot of opponents ahead of you tomorrow, and you can’t fight if you have no energy.”

I chuckled. “Why not? I’ve been doin’ it all my life.”

Rosie gave me one last smile. “You’ll make it through this, Oz. You’re strong. One of the strongest I’ve ever seen.”

I returned the smile. “...thanks, Rosie. Means a lot.”

Without saying another word, Rosie disappeared from sight and slipped out of the room, already gone before the door even had a chance to fully close. To say she was shy would’ve been an understatement. 

Taking one final drag, I smothered the cigarette in a nearby ashtray and lay down on the bed, not even bothering to shut off the lights as I kicked off my shoes and buried my face in the pillow. I wanted nothing more than to just drift off to sleep and end the day, but my mind was still stuck on Bruce, and I couldn’t help thinking about where he was now -- or what he was doing. Part of me had faith that he was the same, little Bruce I used to run around Gotham with, but after hearing what Rosie had to say about him...I wasn’t so sure. He sounded like he had turned into the men I despised, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I supposed only time would tell. If Bruce and Brannigan were truly working together, then perhaps he was much more involved in this than I thought. The only question was -- how? How did he benefit from interfering with a random gang war all the way in England? And did Bruce know I was with William? Probably not. That man pretended like I didn’t exist.

I dragged a hand down my face. This was all turning out to be far more complicated than I expected, and I wasn’t certain if I could handle it. Maybe I should’ve just kept my business in the ring and ignored Braxton’s plan, but then again, sticking with William wasn’t much better. At this point, my only options were life or death, and Braxton seemed like my best chance right now at surviving. I would just have to go with my gut and see where this all led to. For both mine and Hugh’s sake.


	5. Secrets

From Bruce’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

“I want him dead, Brannigan,” I repeated, irritated at the man’s persistence. “I won’t say it again.”

Albert paused for a moment, clearly hesitant to go along with my plan. I could hear him clearing his throat.

“With all due respect, sir, Aiden could be of use to us. His sister, Vivienne, fought valiantly against William, and now she’s dead. Most-likely, the boy wants vengeance now. We can take advantage of that.”

I shook my head. “Aiden is brash and reckless. His plans are careless, and he acts without thinking. How else do you think William was able to capture him so easily? I won’t put our mission at risk simply because you took sympathy on some useless boy. We can’t give him the chance to go after William on his own. William is going to die -- but it’ll be by our hand. Understood?”

Albert’s tone sank with disapproval. “...Understood.”

I straightened my tie and hovered a finger over the “end call” button, standing up from my desk’s chair.

“Good. Now, go on and find someone to do the job. We can’t let anyone trace this back to us. Oh, and once they’re finished -- kill them. Loose ends, and all that. I’m sure you know the drill by now.”

Brannigan didn’t protest any further. “...Of course, sir. I will ensure this gets done quickly and cleanly.”

I glared at the open space in front of me as if I were face-to-face with Albert. “Yes, you will. Oh, and one more thing, Brannigan...”

He froze. “Sir?”

“If I find out that you tried to save Aiden behind my back, just remember: you aren’t the only connection I have in England. If I wanted, everything you own, everything you’ve touched -- it could all be mine before sundown. I don’t spare traitors, and you are certainly no exception. So save us all the trouble, and make sure it doesn’t come to that, yeah?”

He gulped out of nervousness. “I assure you, Mister Wayne, it will never come to that.”

I chuckled softly. “Let’s be realistic, shall we.” 

I let out a breath. “Anyways, you should get to work. If you need anymore info on Aiden, contact me. In the meantime, just make sure he drops dead.”

I could practically hear him nodding out of obedience. “Consider it done.”

“I’ll speak with you later, Brannigan.” 

Ending the call without another word, I allowed myself to enjoy a few seconds of silence as Brannigan carried out my orders on the other side of the world, escorting yet another soul across the River Styx. It was strange, sometimes, to think about how much I was impacting peoples’ lives when I rarely ever got to see the results in person. There was so much violence, so much backstabbing going on in England because of me, and yet, I was barely affected by it. Physically, at least.

Casually pacing around the office, I found myself staring at a family portrait of me and my parents, causing a wave of flashbacks to surge through my head. Even though it had been nearly two decades since the both of them were murdered, I could still hear my father’s voice scolding me everyday, telling me how I needed to be stronger. 

As a child, nothing I did ever seemed to please him. It was always too much, or too little, but never perfectly in between. Even when I defended Oz against the other kids who used to bully him, my father wasn’t impressed at all. In his eyes, I was just a scrawny, weak boy desperately trying to fill his father’s shoes -- and failing. 

In the beginning, I never understood why it was so hard to satisfy him. I used to think I was one of the toughest kids in the neighborhood -- what with how I defended my friends, and all -- and the fact that my father couldn’t see it only frustrated me more and more. I was fighting off bullies, punching them left and right, protecting those who were close to me, and still...my father called me weak. What more did he want?

Though, on the night of his death, I finally saw what he meant.

Staring back at the barrel of the gun that just murdered my parents, and preparing myself for what were almost my final moments...I had never felt more powerless in my life. Everything about the world I knew had been flipped around all because of a single man, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was the first time I ever experienced true, genuine fear, and that was the day when I realized what my father meant by “strength.”

He was never talking about physical endurance, or the ability to knock someone’s teeth out. To him, true strength meant growing a will of steel, and being able to greet death as an equal.

To me though, that was simply everyday life.

Sharing a throne with Hill, Brannigan, William, and Falcone was about as exhausting as one could imagine, and if I didn’t act quickly, there was no guarantee I would still have a portion of the power in the future. My best chance right now was to turn them against each other, and hopefully, eliminate them one by one, leaving room for no one else but me. A task much easier said than done, but nonetheless, still doable.

Before I could think on the matter anymore however, a friendly voice suddenly spoke from behind me, tearing my attention away from the family portrait. It was Alfred.

“There you are,” he greeted with a smile. “I thought I might find you here. You’ve been working tirelessly these past few days -- locked up in this office. I figured you could use some fresh, hot tea to relax. All is well, I hope?”

I quickly returned the smile, taking one of the warm cups into my hand. “Yeah. Thanks, Al. I just finished talking with Regina about some business. Things have been busy in Wayne Enterprises, but nothing we can’t handle.”

The butler beamed with relief. “That’s good to hear, Bruce. For a moment, I was afraid you might be overwhelmed. Clearly though, you’re much stronger than I thought.”

I let out a fake chuckle, trying my best to act normal as I took a sip. “...you have no idea.”

Placing the tray of tea down, Alfred adjusted his glasses and walked up to me, his eyes landing on the family portrait as he let out a nostalgic sigh.

“Are you...all right, Bruce?” He asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but I happened to catch you viewing this painting rather intently mere moments ago...which is understandable. We all reminisce every once in a while. Memories can often provide company in the absence of people. Though, in your case, I’m not sure if those memories are exactly...desirable.”

I glanced up at my father’s face, his stone-cold expression almost immediately swatting my gaze away. I took another sip of the tea.

“I was just wondering if...if Dad would be proud of who I am today. You know how he used to berate me when I was a child. I was always too weak, or too timid -- never the capable, hardy son he wanted.” I stared blankly at teacup in my hand, my reflection looking back at me. “Do you...do you think he’d still see me in the same way now?”

Alfred scoffed, though not in a mocking manner. 

“Why, of course not, Bruce. You’ve become quite the formidable, adamant young man. Hardly anything shakes you.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I...understand that Thomas may have been difficult to please, and his standards were always rather high, but I’ve no doubts he’d be proud of you now. I know I certainly am.”

You wouldn’t be if you knew who I really was, I thought to myself. On the outside though, I simply accepted the praise.

“Thanks, Al.” I said, finishing the remains of my tea. “That means a lot.”

I placed the empty cup back on the tray. “Well, I’ve had my break for the day. I should get back to work. I’ve got many things to attend to, and even less time.”

Alfred nodded. “Then I shall let you go. Just...try not to strain yourself too much, yes? For an old man’s sake.”

I chuckled. “Which old man are you referring to?”

Just then, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, bringing our conversation to a pause. I briefly checked the device.

Carmine: Need to talk. Now.

Carmine: It’s about Ham.

Carmine: Meet me at the cafe. 

Carmine: Make sure no one follows you.

I brought my attention back to Alfred. “And there’s my queue.”

“Is everything all right?” He checked, noticing the concerned look on my face. I hurried out of the office, hoping to avoid further questioning from him.

“Yeah, yeah. Something’s just come up at Wayne Tower, and I need to go sort it out. I’ll see you later, Al.”

“Very well,” he said, taking the tray into his hands. I could tell he was just a tad suspicious of my abrupt exit. “Good luck, sir. If you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

I replied to him in my head.

If I ever require assistance, you’ll be the last person I drag into this goddamn mess. 

That was what Hill and Falcone were for, and I intended to keep it that way. They were “friends” of mine, sure, but neither of them could even compare to Alfred’s companionship. They were easily expendable, and they weren’t the only crime bosses in this city. If the situation ever presented itself, I had no doubts I’d be able to find sufficient replacements for both of them. 

Alfred, on the other hand...he was the treasure in a tomb of traps. There wasn’t a single person in Gotham who could follow in his footsteps, and if anyone even dared to touch him, there’d be hell to pay. 

He was the only true family I had left, and I was willing to do anything to keep him safe...even if that meant locking away my deepest secrets from him. Knowing too much information was the reason my parents were murdered, and I had no plans on sacrificing Alfred to the same fate.


	6. Birth of the Penguin

From Oswald’s POV

Slipping the boxing gloves onto my fists, I prepared myself for the next fight as the crowd outside gathered, filling up the entire building with busy chatter. The audience today seemed much larger than the one from the last match, and I even recognized a few faces scattered among the sea of people. It looked like word was getting around about me, and I could see a some fans avidly searching around for me. I only hoped they would be generous enough to leave a few pounds behind. After all, I didn’t have many options on how to give William the money I owed, and this plan with capturing Brannigan wasn’t exactly the most solid idea. If I wanted their money in my pockets, I’d have to give them the performance of a lifetime.

“Oi, Cobblepot!” I heard Braxton call out from my side as he entered the back room. He firmly patted me on the back. “The crowd’s gettin’ rather giddy. If you don’t get in the ring soon, I’m afraid they’ll start takin’ hostages. You ready for today’s fight?”

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Not that I have a choice. People don’t pay to see me lose.”

He let out a soft chuckle, puffing out a cloud of smoke with it. 

“Tough as nails, this one. Just try not to get hurt too badly, yeah?”

I smirked, stretching my arms. “Who says I’m gonna get hurt?”

Braxton pointed at my smile, glowering in a joking manner. “With a grin as smug as that, someone’s bound to try and twat you in the face someday. It’ll probably be me.”

I gently placed a dramatic hand over my chest. “You would harm me? Your closest friend? Why, Hugh, I am absolutely dismayed. Since when did you become so barbaric?”

Braxton’s stern expression only appeared to stiffen further. “Keep sassing me. I’ll show you ‘barbaric.”

The two of us snickered amongst ourselves for a few, pleasant moments, simply enjoying each other’s company as the other boxers geared up around us, completely oblivious to our conversation. 

I missed being able to talk with Hugh like this. It felt like it had been so long since we could just sit down and be friends, and not have to constantly worry about William or his men. I honestly found it slightly depressing that the majority of our interactions these days were all about business, and it...kind of reminded me of my friendship with Bruce. 

Nineteen years ago, my everyday life consisted of nothing but getting up in the morning, going to school, and spending some time with him. As kids, Bruce and I thought we’d be together forever. We always came up with these crazy plans about abandoning our lives in Gotham, traveling the world, and doing whatever we wanted -- but those days were long gone. Now, I was just some lowly criminal barely scraping by in the gutter, whilst my old friend lived like a king on his father’s throne. I just hoped I would be able to reclaim mine someday.

“Hey, Oz.”

Snapping back to reality, I found Braxton peering at me from under his hat’s rim as his gentle, blue eyes examined my face, focusing almost as if he were trying to read my thoughts.

“...what?” I replied, somewhat taken off-guard. “Are my devilishly good looks distracting you?” The older man crossed his arms.

“Look,” he removed the cigarette from his lips for a second, “as much as I love your commitment to sarcasm, I can also tell when you’re using it as a cloak.” He quirked his brow. “So? What is it? What’s botherin’ you? And don’t gimme that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. I’ve known you for too long to fall for that anymore.”

Leaning back against a nearby wall, I sighed in defeat as my gaze fell to the floor, and that photograph of Brannigan popped up again in my mind.

“Those documents you sent me,” I explained, “I looked through ‘em last night.”

He urged me on. “And?”

“There was this photo of Brannigan that I saw. He was standing with some of his accomplices, and...well, according to Rosie, one of them was...Bruce Wayne.”

Braxton paused. “...wait, what? What are you on about? Bruce Wayne? Are we thinkin’ of the same one?”

I nodded. “Yeah. The one from Gotham. The one Alfred works for. I saw him standing next to Albert.”

Hugh shook his head. “...no, no, that can’t be right. I mean, he lives halfway across the bloody world, for fuck’s sake. What interest would he have in a gang war all the way in England?”

I shrugged. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to find out.”

He thought for a moment. “Hmm. I don’t like that a Wayne is involved in this, Oz. I understand that you used to be friends with Bruce, but...considering the type of man his father was...well, can’t be too careful. Just tread lightly, all right?”

“Of course.”

With a final glance a the crowd outside, Braxton patted me on the back again, slightly pushing me in the direction of the door. 

“Well, anyways, I’ve kept you long enough. Get on out there and give ‘em a show. Also try to knock a few teeth out while you’re at it. Maybe we can pay William with the gold ones.”

I laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

Before I could take a single step out the door however, someone else had already come storming in like an angry bull, blocking my path and nearly swatting me aside like a fly. It was none other than Richie Kane, William’s son.

Richie was a colossal man, to put it simply. He may have been the younger child, but his height would’ve convinced anyone otherwise. Even at a distance, his figure towered over me, and the fact that he was mostly muscle certainly didn’t help matters. Sometimes, I wondered how the hell he even fit through the doors here.

Regaining my composure, I took a better look at him as he prowled into the room, adorning his signature, pissed expression. As always, his dark hair had been neatly slicked back, and the absence of any facial hair revealed the long, deep scar right underneath his cheekbone. He was wearing a navy-blue suit that matched his eyes, and in his hand, I saw a loaded pistol. Shit.

“Err, hey, Richie,” I greeted, trying not to provoke him. “What are you doin’ here?” The taller man approached me.

“There you are,” Richie said, irritated. He had obviously been looking for me for a while. “Follow me. My father wants to see you.”

Hugh jumped in. “And why is that?”

Richie turned to him. “None of your business, Braxton.”

“On the contrary,” he fired back, “Cobblepot technically still works for me, in case you forgot. His business is my business.”

Richie fell into silence for a minute, glancing back and forth from me to Braxton before finally complying.

“My father wouldn’t tell me the details, but...something happened last night involving my sister and Cobblepot, and he’s not happy about it. At all. He said he wants to see him immediately.”

I froze. “Your sister? You mean Rosie? Is she okay?”

Richie glared at me. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of how to react. “Listen, I dunno what William thinks I’ve done, but Rosie’s fine. At least, she was last I saw her.”

The giant gangster closed the distance between us. “For your sake, she better be. Now shut up, and follow me.”

I gestured to the ring. “But what ‘bout the match? I can’t just leave all those people out there.”

He obviously didn’t give a shit. “My sister’s safety is more important than your little cat fights. You can box later. Now, for the last time, just. Follow. Me.”

As Richie made his way out of the room, I simply stood there and exchanged looks with Braxton, both of us dumbfounded. I had no idea what Richie was talking about, and as far as I was concerned, Rosie was in no danger. I supposed I would find out soon.

“We better see what William wants,” Hugh recommended, heading for the exit. “Jesus, that prick really likes to stir things up, don’t he? Nags us non-stop for a mountain of cash, then robs us of our opportunity to earn it. This match could’ve won you a decent portion of the money we owe. Unbelievable.”

I took off my gloves and pulled a shirt back on, following Braxton out the door as the crowd began to grow somewhat rowdy. 

“It’s all right, Hugh,” I reassured. “I can handle William. I just gotta figure out what he wants first.”

The other man scoffed. “Well, good fuckin’ luck with that. Sometimes, I’m not even sure if he knows what he wants. Not the best personality trait for a leader. Though, I suppose that’d require a personality in the first place, wouldn’t it?”

I chuckled. “You might be the most bitter person I know.”

Braxton grinned at me with pride, adjusting his hat as he made his way outside. 

“Why, thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

WILLIAM’S OFFICE

After a few minutes of trailing behind Richie’s massive figure, the three of us finally reached the ominous double-doors which led to William’s office as low, muffled voices barely slipped past the sturdy material, murmuring in hushed tones. I could’ve sworn that the temperature had dropped by ten degrees, and the closer I got to the entrance, the more I wanted to run. What was going on? Was Rosie okay? What did William think I’d done?

“He’s inside,” Richie said, gesturing for me to go in. “I’d...be careful about what you say to him. When my father gets angry, fists often get thrown around.”

I furrowed my brow in concern. “I hope this ain’t coming from personal experience.” 

Richie frowned, looking away from me.

“He does what he has to. Anyways, c’mon. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Pushing the doors open, Richie allowed me and Braxton into the dark office as he stepped off to the side, locking us in and unveiling the disturbing scene in front of us.

In one of the corners of the room, I saw Rosie sitting on the floor, crying, with her head lowered in shame as her shoulders shook. There were lines of mascara dribbling down her cheeks, her hair had been ruffled up, and parts of her skin appeared bruised. What the hell happened to her?

As for William, the crime-boss was standing in the center of the office with his back facing us, and even with his hands shoved in his pockets, I could still see hints of red staining his knuckles. Did he...?

“Ah, Cobblepot,” William said, his voice as calm as ever. “About time. We have much to discuss,” he threw a glare towards Braxton. “What’s he doing here?”

“He insisted on coming,” Richie hastily explained. “Said that Cobblepot’s business was his as well.”

William let out a disapproving “hmph,” nearly piercing through Braxton with his gaze.

“Very well. I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He slowly approached me. “Tell me, Oz...do you know why you’re here?”

I continued to stare at Rosie, unable to take my eyes off her. She was still pretending not to see me, and with every passing second, I felt more and more invisible due to the lack of acknowledgement. That was, until William wandered into my line of sight, blocking my view.

“I asked you a question, Cobblepot,” he almost growled. “I expect an answer.”

I did my best to appear unwavering. “...No. I don’t. An explanation would be nice.”

William gave me a warning look. “Careful, Oz. After all, your life isn’t the only one at risk here.” 

He returned to the center of the office, tracing a finger along the edge of his desk. “The reason you’re here...is because a certain someone told me that they saw Rosie paying you a visit last night. Alone. In your own room, no less. The whole thing was rather secretive, from what I hear. Almost like the two of you didn’t want to be seen.”

I glanced at Braxton in confusion, uncertain of how to respond. “Erm, what are you...” my eyes sprung open with sudden realization.

“Wait -- you think that we...”

In a matter of seconds, William was up in my face again, backing me against a wall.

“I’ve made it extremely clear that you are not to get anywhere near my daughter. And yet, you have the audacity to approach her behind my back, using her for your own satisfaction like a common whore.”

I stumbled over my own words, beginning to panic a little. “Kane, listen, I swear to you -- I didn’t lay a single finger on her. Nothing happened between us.”

William didn’t look convinced. “Oh? Is that so? That’s not what she told me.”

I froze, peering over at Rosie. “What?”

She wiped some tears from her eyes, barely able to make eye contact with me. I saw her mouth the words, “I’m sorry.” I could hear William’s signature, low chuckle.

“Unlike you, Cobblepot, my people know to be honest. They understand what happens if they’re not. Perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?”

Before I even had a chance to react, Richie had kicked me to the ground from behind, and restrained my arms, preventing me from making any sort of movement. Meanwhile, Braxton was trying to break free from some of William’s other men who had blocked him, and was about ready to throw himself between me and Richie. I saw the crime-boss himself walking up to me with a newfound aggressiveness.

“You’ve been a nuisance for long enough,” William cracked his knuckles. “It’s time you learned some respect.”

Snatching me by the collar, he tightened his fist and prepared to land the first punch until, out of nowhere, Braxton suddenly intervened.

“Wait!” He exclaimed, snagging William’s attention away from me. “Just...wait. This is my fault. All right? I’m the one who sent Rosie to him. Oz is innocent here. And besides, he’s one of my men. I take responsibility for his actions.”

I stared at Braxton in bewilderment. What the fuck was he doing?

William paraded over to him. “You’re the one behind this, Hugh? Is that true?”

He nodded. Though, it didn’t come off as obedient as maybe William was hoping. “Yes. It’s true.”

The crime-boss sneered. He obviously didn’t completely believe Braxton’s claim, but considering that it was either me or him who would get beat, I doubted William cared who received the punishment. And so he played along.

“Well, in that case,” William shoved Braxton to the floor, just like he did to me, “you are either the bravest or the dumbest man I’ve ever known. I’ll let the devil decide.”

Still stuck in Richie’s grasp, I desperately tried to wrestle free as the crime-boss got closer to Hugh, getting ready to beat him to hell whilst Rosie remained motionless in her corner, crying even more than before. She was almost covering her face out of guilt at this point, and she could scarcely watch what was happening. If I survived this day, she and I were definitely going to have a talk.

At the sound of a bone-shattering thud, I saw William slam his fist across Braxton’s face with a fearsome amount of strength, nearly hurling the man’s entire body onto the floor, and coaxing a squeak out of Rosie.

“D-don’t...don’t hurt him!” She pleaded. “He’s --”

Braxton cut her off before she could say more. “--Don’t stick your neck out for me, love,” he slurred out through bloody teeth, somehow still conscious. “...You’ve done quite enough.”

Falling back into silence, Rosie practically zipped her mouth shut and averted her gaze from the violent scene, hiding in the shadows of the office as William resumed his current task. Part of me wanted to run over and comfort her, and tell her everything would be all right, but part of me also wanted to relentlessly rebuke her for putting Braxton in this position. What the hell was going on in her head? What did she expect would happen?

Well, whatever the case was -- none of that mattered now. 

At the moment, the only thing I could focus on was the expanding puddle of Braxton’s blood growing on the ornate rug beneath us, spreading with every hit William sent smashing across his face. He didn’t hold anything back in his assault, and even when I tried to look away, the pained grunts ringing in my ears only made the image more vibrant in my head.

I had no idea how he was doing it, but Hugh simply refused to collapse. Even when his body threatened to break, Braxton managed to keep his head up and look William dead in the eye, almost as if he were telling him, “come get me.” It made me grateful that I wasn’t the one being hit, but at the same time, I was also worried sick about Braxton’s physical condition. Despite his brick wall temperament, he was still just a human -- and everyone had their limits.

I heard William laugh in a sinister manner, wiping his hands clean. His attention was back on me.

“Look at you,” he mocked, crouching down to my level. “Oswald Cobblepot...the so-called champion of the ring. Brought to his knees when no one’s even attacking him. Pathetic. You’re nothing but a penguin hidden among eagles. You can try to fit in all you like, but everyone knows you can’t really fly.”

I clenched my jaw in anger, gritting my teeth and doing my best to bottle up the rage.

“I don’t know what Rosie ever saw in you -- but she certainly won’t be seeing you again.” William stood up and turned to his men. “I’m done here. Take them down to the cellar.”

Hauling me off the floor, Richie aggressively shoved me out of the office along with a half-dead Braxton while Rosie stayed behind, left to face her father’s wrath all alone. Normally, I would’ve felt bad for her, and I couldn’t deny that I was somewhat concerned, but half of me found it hard to sympathize with her at the moment, considering what we just went through. I only hoped Hugh would be okay.

As I was shown off through the building for everyone to see, I felt my face grow hot with humiliation as onlookers nailed their curiosity onto me, immediately recognizing my face even though my head was down. It was beyond embarrassing to be at such a low position, especially after being praised as one of William’s best fighters, and there was no doubt I would be disappointing a lot of fans who had been counting on me. Being dragged around made me feel like a dog on a leash, and I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in a hole for the rest of my life. Though, I supposed that was exactly what was happening, wasn’t it?

“I wish he hadn’t done that.” Richie suddenly commented. Despite the apathetic tone to his voice, he actually sounded sincere. “...I’m sorry.”

I sighed in frustration, shaking my head. “Well, it’s done now, isn’t it? Can’t really change the past.”

Richie loosened his grip on me slightly. “No, but you can change how it affects you. Whether you grow or crumble from today’s hardships...that’s all up to you. No one else can make that decision.”

A bit surprised at the sentiment, I simply gaped at the brutish man for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“...erm, thanks...Richie. I appreciate the thought.”

His expression stayed serious. “I’m sure you’d appreciate a way out more.” He leaned in towards my ear. “I didn’t tell you this, but my father’s got someone else locked up in the cellars. Someone by the name ‘Aiden King.’ He’s not exactly the most cautious bloke -- in fact, he’s kind of a fuckin’ idiot -- but he could definitely help you escape. It’s something to consider.”

I nodded in thought. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. Thanks for the info, mate.”

Richie cracked a smile. “You’ll find a way out. Penguins are known to be slippery, after all.”

I smirked. “They also walk weird and try to fly.”

Richie scoffed. “Give a man enough alcohol and he’ll do the same. You may not be an eagle, Oz, but wings are pretty useless when you’re locked in a cellar. I know you’ll think of another way to escape.”

I let out a breath, looking over at Hugh. “I just hope Braxton’ll be all right.”

Richie didn’t seem as worried. “I’ve seen him in action before. I’ve also seen how much he cares about you. Trust me,” he put a hand on my shoulder, “as long as you’re breathin’, your friend ain’t going anywhere soon.”


	7. To Kill a King

From Bruce’s POV

CAFÉ TRISTE

Stepping out of the car, I put on my best smile and approached the picturesque cafe, ignoring all the curious stares I received from civilians along the way. There was a decent amount of customers already filling up the outdoors area, and with a few, careful glances into the crowd, I was able to spot some of Falcone’s men scattered around, enjoying their coffee in disguise. They were probably there to make sure no one else entered with me.

Casually wandering into the cafe, I pushed open the elegant glass doors with a soft ding, instantly being greeted by the comforting smell of fresh coffee, as well as the busy noise of silverware clinking, and the soft, jazz music playing over the stereos. Things seemed calm enough.

Upon strolling in, I immediately caught the attention of the barista, along with some of the other patrons inside as I made my way to the counter. Currently, there wasn’t any sort of line holding me up, and within the five seconds it took for me to get there, the barista had already tucked her hair behind her ears, straightened her apron, and slapped on the happiest expression I’d ever seen on any human being. New employee? Or was her job really just that exciting to her?

“Oh! Erm,” she quickly cleared her throat, “w-welcome, Mister Wayne...! What...what can I do for you today? M-may I suggest the new Mocha-Raspberry Frappuccino?”

I could practically hear her heart pounding over all the coffee machines, and the way she nailed her eyes onto me made it pretty obvious she wasn’t expecting to see me. She was clearly nervous to be talking with me, though I didn’t know why. I decided to pay it no mind.

“Thanks,” I replied, “but I’m just here to see--”

Before I could even complete my sentence, another much more familiar “barista” had walked up behind the counter, budding into our conversation. I chuckled.

“--and there he is.” I finished. He rested his hands on the counter’s surface.

“Hey there, Bruce,” he said, beaming. He turned to the younger barista. “Sorry, Layla. Shoulda told you he was coming. We just wanted to catch up briefly.”

“Oh,” she sighed, almost sounding disappointed. “Okay. ...W-well, let me know if you need anything, all right? I’ll just be over there.”

Skulking off with a frown, Layla pretended to occupy herself with one of the coffee machines as more customers walked in, leaving me and the other barista alone. He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“She’s quite a fan,” he explained discreetly. “...Of your face, specifically. Never shuts up about you.”

I grinned. “I’m flattered. Seems like most people these days would rather see me dead on the pavement.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? The crime-bosses in Gotham aren’t used to someone so young wielding so much power. You threaten them.”

I crossed my arms. “Any crime-boss in particular you might be referring to?”

He winked. “Maybe just one. In fact, my...“boss” wanted to talk to you about him. He’s waiting in the usual spot.”

“I’ll go see him, then. Thanks.”

“One cappuccino coming right up,” he said as a cover, in case anyone was listening. He subtly gestured over to the side. “Go on in.”

Giving the barista one last nod, I quickly slipped away from everyone’s sight and headed for Falcone’s secret door, which had been embedded into the wall and disguised as a decorative wine rack.

Double-checking to see if anyone was watching, I pressed one of the wine bottle’s corks and triggered the door to slide open, hurriedly disappearing behind the contraption before I could get caught. 

It was much quieter in here, and the further I descended the long staircase, the more I could hear Falcone’s brash voice bouncing off the brick walls. It sounded like he was talking to a handful of a few other people, and I felt my curiosity peaking as I began to wonder who he had brought along with him.

“...this sorry bastard actually thought he had a chance,” I heard Falcone say with a chortle as he entertained his friends. “Barging into my club and tryin’ to kill me like some vigilante in the goddamn Wild West. It was no surprise when the GCPD found him face-down in a ditch the next day.”

“In a ditch?” A younger man’s voice said, joking. “I thought you were more careful than that.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like Bruce,” Falcone chuckled. “Normally I am, but I wanted the police to see what my men had done to him. Left them a little message, if you will. Thought it’d be unfair if I didn’t warn them, you see.”

“Who was the man that tried to kill you anyways?”

“No idea. Probably just some punk wanting to make easy money -- except for the fact that there was nothing easy about hunting me down. Assassinations aren’t only about the killing, y’know. You also gotta make sure you’re ready for the aftermath as well. Ah, but we’ll continue this story at a later date. Look who just dropped in...”

Standing up from a plush, ornate couch, Falcone spread his arms in a welcoming fashion as I entered the secret parlor and everyone glued their gazes onto me. There was a pair of bodyguards quietly standing on both sides of the fireplace, and next to Falcone, I saw a vaguely familiar young man resting in a couch. Who was he?

“Nephew,” Carmine greeted in a pleasant tone, “glad you could make it. I trust you came alone?”

I raised a brow at him. “I did. And what about you?”

He gestured to his bodyguards. “Thought we might want some security for a meeting as important as this. Surely you don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. But they can wait outside.”

Falcone paused. “I’m sorry?”

“As much as I trust you, Uncle,” I stepped closer to him, “I’d prefer if we discussed this matter privately. Away from extra ears. They can still do their job, but they’ll do it where they can’t hear us.”

Falcone was evidently slightly annoyed at my decision, and I could see his nose crinkling a bit, but he complied nonetheless and snapped his fingers, signaling the bodyguards to exit the parlor. The young man however, stayed behind.

For a moment, the three of us simply remained in place as we waited for the bodyguards to completely leave, and the crackling of the fire warmly filled the silence. There was a split second when the busy atmosphere of the cafe seeped in due to the door opening, before vanishing once again as the wall sealed shut, allowing Falcone and I to finally speak freely. The crime-boss sat back down.

“Think you’re being a bit paranoid, Bruce.” He said, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“And being naive is better? Those men have as much loyalty as you have money, Carmine. I don’t need any surprises -- especially when we have a potential traitor working with us.” I slipped a hand into my pocket. “Speaking of which, you said you found something about Hill. Something you wanted to bring to my attention?”

Falcone took a sip. “You can thank my son for that,” he directed a hand at the young man. “You remember Mario, yes? The two of you used to play together often as kids. You’re practically brothers.”

Mario smiled at me. “It’s been quite some time, Bruce. I’m pleased to see you again.”

I almost scoffed out loud. Practically brothers? I barely knew Mario as a child, and the one time we did spend time together was when I punched him for bullying Oz. As far as I was concerned, he should’ve been waiting outside with the bodyguards.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mario,” I didn’t return the smile. “You haven’t changed at all. What did you learn about Hill?”

Mario approached me. “Before I get to that, there are a few things I need to explain first,” he adjusted his tie. “You see, the assassin you hired to kill Vivienne -- he was...a friend of mine.”

The tone of his voice was obviously a hook for sympathy, but I refused to let him reel me in. I stared at him bluntly. 

“You need better friends.”

He chuckled nervously, searching for a way to recover. “Evidently so!” Mario took a second to regain composure. “Listen, I don’t know what name he told you, but his real name was Tommy Faenza. He didn’t work for my father, but I did know him rather well as a friend. That’s why I shocked when I learned he had been killed. By you, no less. You have to understand, I had no idea he had been hired to assassinate someone.”

I was already bored. “And how does this relate to Hill, exactly?”

Mario held a finger up. “Well, after Tommy’s death, I decided to do a little digging. I wanted to know his secrets; to know everything about the people he worked with...and that’s when I learned that you weren’t the only one who hired him.”

He strolled over to the fireplace. “Apparently, Hill also paid him a handsome amount of money to assassinate one other target. Can you take a wild guess on who it was?”

I sighed in frustration, muttering under my breath. “...Jesus Christ.”

Mario awkwardly blinked a few times. “Not quite, but...erm, yes, Hill was planning to kill you, Bruce.”

I wasn’t entirely convinced yet. “Look, despite Hill being one of the biggest liars I’ve ever known, I’m still going to need more proof than ‘my friend worked for him.”

Mario took a phone out of his pocket with a grin. “I knew you’d say that. Well, it just so happens that I found a voicemail on Tommy’s phone left by Hill.” He tapped the “play” icon.

“Tommy, now that Vivienne is dead, I should warn you -- Bruce will try to finish you off. He always kills the people he employs, and he always does it in that murky cave of his. It’s his way of tying up loose ends. I promise you, I will do everything I can to ensure he doesn’t succeed. I’m going to need your help if I want Bruce dead, and I’m certainly not about to give up now. So be on your guard, and stay safe. I’ll see you soon.”

The voicemail came to a stop, leaving the three of us at a loss for words.

“That’s certainly Ham’s voice.” Falcone said, his tone sinking with disappointment.

“So Hill wants me dead,” I crossed my arms. “Shocking.”

Falcone rose from his chair. “Just say the word, Bruce. My men can end him. He’ll be dead before midnight.”

“No.”

The crime-boss was taken-aback. “No?”

I brought my gaze to the fireplace. “You wanna kill a king, you gotta destroy his castle first. Hill is too well-known and too well-connected for us to attack him directly. Just take this incident for example. Hill obviously has much deeper roots in Gotham than we anticipated, and if we kill him now -- just out of the blue -- people will notice. The last thing we want at the moment is attention. We have to be discreet.”

Falcone took another sip. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

An idea lit up in my mind. “...The election next year. If I recall correctly, didn’t Harvey Dent ask for your support?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, he did. It was ‘the evil of politics’ he said. Dent’s willing to do anything to become mayor.”

I thought for a minute. “And if Dent wins the elections, Hill will be kicked out of the mayor’s office, leaving him more vulnerable than ever. That’ll be our moment to strike.”

Falcone’s eyes widened. “But that’s next year, Bruce. Who knows how many times Hill will have tried to murder you by then?”

“If I can survive nineteen years working with that snake, a few more months will be no problem. We still need to be cautious, mind you, but the elections will be here before you know it. We have to act fast.”

The crime-boss finally agreed. “...Very well. What would you have me do?”

“Contact Dent. Let him know you’ll consider funding his campaign. I’ll also see if I can reach him somehow, but if I do it too soon, he’ll know we’re planning something. Just make sure he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“You got it, Bruce. I’ll get to work immediately. Same goes for you, Mario.”

His son retrieved Tommy’s phone. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Good,” I said. “Then this discussion’s concluded. Let me know if you learn anything else. Meanwhile, keep an eye on Hill. Make sure he doesn’t try anything funny.”

“You’ll be the first to know if he does,” Falcone said as he headed for the parlor’s exit, Mario following him from behind. “Well, I’ll take my leave. Hill’s not going to take care of himself, and time certainly isn’t gonna wait for us. Good luck surviving out there, Bruce. The crime in Gotham never sleeps.”

I stayed behind and poured my own glass of wine, sitting in front of the fireplace as my eyes stuck themselves onto the dancing flames, somewhat drawn to the wildness in them.

“There wouldn’t be a Gotham if it did.”


	8. Going Out in Style

From Oswald's POV

THE CELLAR

“...Hello...?” A man’s voice called out, his tone oddly casual. It echoed in my head like a bell, and bounced off the walls of my skull, rattling the headache I already had even further. Braxton? No. It didn’t sound like him, and it certainly wasn’t William. Who was speaking?

“Hey,” they raised their volume a little, “can you hear me? You’re not dead already, are you?”

With a light nudge from the stranger, I felt my eyes fluttering open as they began to shake me into consciousness, revealing a new environment and a new face in front of me. 

The stranger turned out to be a young man with unkempt, black hair, some scruff, and hazel eyes. He looked close to my age, and his accent didn’t sound like he was from England. In fact, he sounded like he was from...Gotham. Could it really be? It may have been two decades since I’d seen that god-awful city, but I’d still recognize that accent anywhere. What was someone from Gotham doing here? Was there a chance they’d know about Bruce? I supposed there was only one way to find out.

“W-what?” I blurted, still a little bleary. “Who are you?”

He let out a breath of relief. “Oh, good. You are alive. No offence, but you looked pretty dead there for a second. Glad to see you’re still with us,” he placed an introducing hand on his chest. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Aiden, and you must be Oswald Cobblepot. I’ve heard a lot about you, and how you fight in the ring. Impressive stuff.”

My head jolted upward in realization. “You’re Aiden? As in Aiden King?”

He chuckled. “Well, well. Didn’t know I was a celebrity. How d’you know who I am?”

I leaned forward. “Kane’s son told me ‘bout you. Said that you were more than experienced with tryin’ to escape this place, and that you could help me break out. Though, I think I’d prefer the help of someone who’s actually succeeded.”

Aiden frowned in a playful manner. “Hey, I tried. Multiple times, in fact. It’s the effort that counts, right? Besides, with the help of you and your friend here, I think we could finally pull it off. Though, it’s still gonna be tricky.”

I paused. “...wait, my friend? You mean Braxton? Where is he? Is he okay?”

Suddenly, emerging from the shadows, I saw Hugh himself limp up behind Aiden, standing tall as always. His face was littered with dark bruises and cuts, one of his eyes had nearly been swollen shut, and I could tell that it was taking him a huge amount of energy just to stay on his feet. And as if he didn’t look broken enough, William had also stripped him of both his signature hat and suit jacket, taking away the only symbols of authority he ever had. I instantly rose to my feet at the worrying sight.

“Hugh!” I reached out to hug him, only to stop myself before I could even move. I didn’t want to accidentally hurt him further -- especially after what he’d been through -- and the man had never been fond of hugs anyways. So, I simply stood there, prepared to catch him at a moment’s notice if he were to collapse.

“How...how are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m fine, Oz,” Braxton reassured, glancing around the cellar. “I can hit harder than that dusty old prick in my sleep. Right now, we’ve got a bigger issue to take care of. William’s locked us up in his own, personal prison, and if what the guards are saying is true, then he’s planning to have us killed soon. We need to leave.”

I took a step back. “How long have I been out?”

“I dunno -- two hours, maybe? Long enough for me and Aiden to come up with a plan.”

I checked to see if anyone was listening before I said anything else. This was all moving rather quickly for my liking, and I wasn’t even sure if I was completely awake yet, but the urgency of our situation was pretty obvious. I lowered my voice, keeping it down to a whisper. 

“All right, what’s the plan?”

Aiden rested his hands on his hips. “Well, first of all, we’re gonna have to break out here, obviously. But once we take care of that, I’m afraid the next step might not be as easy. You see, Braxton here told me about your original plans to kidnap Brannigan, and use his money for yourself. And as clever as that is, I’m sorry to say it may not be as simple as you might’ve expected. Brannigan is filthy-rich, yes, but a lot of his money...doesn’t actually belong to him.”

“What?” I questioned. “Isn’t he the one funding his gang?”

“Yes, but his money goes way deeper than his own pockets. All the way down to a criminal empire led by a certain snake called Bruce Wayne. I’m told you’re from Gotham too. No doubt you’re more than familiar with that name.”

I scoffed. “You’ve no idea.”

A look of worry covered Aiden’s face. “Then you know how dangerous he is. And you probably won’t be pleased to hear that Bruce is much more involved in this than you think. Where else do you think Brannigan gets his wealth from? Or William? They’re both dogs on a leash, and Wayne is the one holding them.”

Braxton jumped in. “You mentioned you saw photos of Wayne and Brannigan together. This is most likely what those were all about.”

I was still lost. “Wait, Bruce is helping both Brannigan and William? Aren’t they enemies?”

Aiden held a finger up. “Exactly. Don’t you get it? Bruce wants them to fight. He wants them to rip each other to shreds. Brannigan and William are two of the most powerful men in London. If they die, the throne will be left empty, and Bruce’ll be free to stroll right in and take it for himself.” 

He grinned. “That’s why...we’re gonna bring him here.”

I blinked a few times in confusion, taking a moment to process what Aiden just said.

“I’m sorry, what? It sounded like you said you wanted to bring Bruce here.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think small. Don’t worry -- we’ll still stick with your old plans of going after Brannigan, but instead of only kidnapping him, we’re gonna kill him. And better than that, we’re gonna frame William for the murder. Bruce will have no choice but to come to England then, and that’ll be our opportunity to strike at the heart of this whole war. William will lose all his money, he’ll be weakened, and we can dispose of him as well. Not a bad plan, eh?”

I laughed, though it was more out of being overwhelmed than amused. “You certainly don’t hold back. I’ll give you that. You really think this’ll work?”

Aiden gave me a firm nod. “My people and I have been working on this for a while, actually. We just haven’t had enough manpower to carry it out. So...what d’you say? Will you help us?” He held a hand out.

I froze for a few seconds and stared at his palm, just trying to take in everything Aiden was telling me. 

William had to die -- there was no question about that. Not only was the man a danger to me and Braxton, he was also a danger to his own men, and even his children.

But killing Bruce in the process...I wasn’t sure how I felt about that part. I knew it was risky for me to let my personal connections with him get in the way of business, but he was an old friend of mine. He protected me as a kid. Murdering him just so I could have an easier life...it felt wrong. Or perhaps, it wasn’t wrong at all. 

I mean, based on the things I’d heard of the new Bruce -- he sounded identical to his father. Possibly even worse. Maybe it was best if he...died. Maybe everyone would be safer then. As much as it pained me to say that, it was clear what had to be done. I stepped closer to Aiden.

“...All right,” I said, gripping his hand. “I’ll...I’ll do it.”

He smiled from ear-to-ear. “Wonderful,” Aiden turned to Braxton. “And what about you, old man? You in?”

Hugh nodded. “Wherever Oz goes, I go. I’m in.” He nudged Aiden on the arm. “And don’t call me old.”

Aiden smirked. “Great. We’ll make our break tonight, when everyone’s asleep. In the meantime, try to get some rest. This isn’t going to be easy.”

Wandering off to one of the corners of the cell after the talk was finished, Braxton took a seat on the stone floor while Aiden returned to “his” spot, scribbling down some notes on a folded piece of paper that he kept in his pocket. Whatever he was writing, it was clear that Aiden had been here for quite a while -- or at least, long enough to study this place so thoroughly. It almost felt like he knew more about it than I did -- and I worked here. Or, I used to.

Sitting next to Hugh, I gently examined the wounded man and offered him a drink from my flask which he wasted no time in accepting, taking a swig as if there was no tomorrow. Though, I supposed if our plan failed, there wouldn’t be. He handed the flask back.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Braxton said, like he could read my mind. “William needed someone to punish, and I wasn’t about to let you take the beating. It was my doing, after all.”

I sighed, taking a sip of my own. “I just...what if he killed you, Hugh? What if he didn’t stop? Then where would we be?”

“You would still be here, and you would still be escaping tonight with Aiden. Only difference is I’d be dead.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, not like it’s a big deal.”

Braxton turned to face me. “My point is,” he grabbed the flask, “you’re not a little boy anymore, Oz. You don’t need me. What you need is to be prepared in case something actually does happen. I mean, with Bruce involved in this mess now, there’s no telling where the fuck this madness will go.”

I leaned back, resting my elbows on my knees. “Just because I’m an adult don’t mean I don’t need you, Hugh. You’re still family. But about Bruce...I’ve been meaning to ask: is it true what they say about him? Is he really that bad?”

Hugh shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never met the boy. Though, if he’s anything like that daddy of his, then he’s certainly gonna be a problem. William’s big and bad, sure, but have you ever been enemies with a Wayne? Conniving, little bastards, the lot of them. You never know what they’re up to. Never know what’s going on in those deceitful minds of theirs. I know you used to be close with Bruce, but I’d still be careful if I were you. Who knows how these past nineteen years have changed him?”

I reluctantly agreed. “You’re right, you’re right...but for the sake of our friendship, I hope he’s the same Bruce. Friends have become scarce as it is -- I don’t need to lose another one.”

Braxton returned the flask, and pointed outside the cell. “Well, one of them’s here to see you right now.”

Following Hugh’s gaze, I whirled around and stood up, only to find Rosie waiting on the other side of the bars. She appeared less frazzled than before, and despite the bruises marking her skin, she seemed to have cleaned up rather well. Though, I could still tell something was wrong. I carefully approached her.

“Rosie,” I called out in a hushed tone, “what are you doing here?” I sounded more bitter than intended.

She sighed in relief. “Oz -- oh thank goodness, you’re okay.” Rosie paused for a second, biting her lip as if she were about to cry. 

“I’m...so sorry about earlier. My father -- he knows nothing happened between us, but he forced me to go along with his lies anyways; to keep quiet about the truth. He just wanted a reason to beat you up. I never blamed you, Oz. Or Braxton. You have to believe me!”

I patted her shoulder through the bars in an attempt to calm her down.

“Shh, it’s all right. It’s all right. Of course I believe you. You’re one of the few people I can trust here. I know you wouldn’t turn on me like that.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Oz. That means a lot to me.”

I gently took her hand into my own, gesturing to the bruises running up her arm. “I don’t mean to pry, Rosie, but...William didn’t do this to you...did he?”

Rosie averted her eyes from me, blankly staring at the floor. “...my father calls it ‘discipline.’ It’s his way of keeping me and Richie under control.”

I had to admit, I was shocked. I always knew William was a piece of shit anyways, but to go as far as beating his own children -- how sick could one man be? I found myself tightening my grip on Rosie’s hand.

“He does this to Richie too?” I asked, my voice nearly shaking with anger. She nodded.

“Richie may look big and strong, but in reality, my little brother deals with more than I do. It’s why he’s so obedient. My father uses him like a guard dog.”

I let out a breath. “...Jesus. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that. Y’know, we’re actually planning to escape soon. Why don’t you come with us?”

Rosie hesitated. It was clear she wanted to accept, but there was still something holding her back.

“I would love to, Oz, but...I can’t just leave Richie behind. He needs me.”

I persisted. “I never said you had to.”

She thought for a moment, still holding onto my hand as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the guards weren’t too close. She leaned forward.

“I’ll consider your offer,” Rosie agreed. “And I’ll also talk to Richie about it. When are you guys planning to break out?”

“Tonight.”

“Then I’ll let you know beforehand. Until then,” she unwillingly released her grasp, “please stay safe, Oz. This isn’t going to get any easier.”

Stepping back, Rosie turned around to leave before suddenly halting in her tracks, as if something had just popped up in her mind.

“Oh! I almost forgot --” She pulled out a very familiar-looking hat and passed it to me, smiling bashfully. “I managed to retrieve Hugh’s hat from my dad’s office. Figured he’d want it back.”

I chuckled, waving it as thanks. “He’ll be happy to see it again. I swear, the thing’s like family to him. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Rosie walked away for real this time, returning the wave as a goodbye. “Good luck out there, Oz. Maybe England will finally see you as more than just a boxer. Maybe they’ll see you as who you are.”

“...As a penguin?”

She laughed. “The Penguin.”

Disappearing from sight, Rosie quickly made her way out of the cellar and to Richie, leaving me with a new sense of determination as I tore myself away from the bars. 

After what happened with William, I felt hopeless and defeated -- like all of my effort had been for nothing, and that I was about to lose everything I’d worked for. 

Now though, there was a little, crazy voice in the back of my head, encouraging me and saying that I could do this -- and I actually believed it. Was it just false ambition? Or was this whole situation really a blessing in disguise? I guessed that all depended on me.

Strolling back to Braxton, I casually dangled the hat in front of him, wiggling it in order to get his attention. His eyes snapped upwards, and a satisfied look spread across his face as he took the accessory into his hands.

“Well, well...” he patted some dust off it, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

He proudly placed it back on his head and adjusted its position before glancing at me. “Where’d you find this beauty?”

“Rosie got it back for you,” I explained. “Nicked it from William’s office.”

“She’s a sweetheart, that one. I’ll have to thank her later -- if we ever escape this shit hole, that is.”

I took a seat next to Hugh, getting comfortable while I still had the chance. “We got this, mate,” I assured. “Just watch. We’ll be outta here by tomorrow morning.”

He raised a brow. “You sound very sure of that.”

I grinned. “Oh, I am. Don’t believe me? You can buy a round of drinks for us once we break free.”

Braxton snickered at that, playfully punching me on the arm. “Y’know what? I’ll take that bet. We make it outta here, and drinks will be on me. If we don’t, well...I suppose we’ll all be dead then, won’t we? For the first time in my life...I’m hoping I lose.”

I returned the punch, glowering at him in a joking manner. “Betting on your own death. I don’t think there’s a more ‘Braxton’ way to die.”

He pulled the hat down over his eyes and leaned back, folding his hands on top of his chest as he prepared to get some rest. 

“If we’re gonna die, may as well do it in style.”


	9. Fish On A Hook

From Harvey’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

Ascending the stairs to the manor’s front porch, I quickly made some adjustments to my appearance before going to greet Bruce Wayne himself, my heart pumping with anxiety as I straightened my tie and practiced what I was going to say to him in my head. 

Even though this technically wasn’t my first time meeting the billionaire, I was still unsure of how to act around someone of his stature -- and to be honest -- it surprised me quite a bit when he said he wanted to discuss supporting my campaign. In terms of wealth and power, Bruce was up there with men like Carmine Falcone, Salvatore Maroni, and even the mayor of Gotham. Compared to him, I was nothing but an ant scurrying around a boot. I was a nobody. If someone like him were to back me up in the elections...man, victory would almost be a guarantee. I had to get this right. Not just for me, but for the good of Gotham. I only hoped I wouldn’t push him away.

All right, Harvey, I told myself as I approached the door, you got this. Just act natural. Don’t be weird around him. Treat him like you would anyone else. Everything’s gonna be fine.You got this.

Taking a deep breath, I nervously pressed the doorbell and eagerly waited for an answer, my hands fidgeting with themselves as I chewed on my bottom lip. From what I could see through the front windows, the inside of the manor was even bigger than I had imagined, and a part of me wondered if Bruce occupied it alone. 

Obviously, his butler was there to keep him company, but I couldn’t help questioning if he had “someone else” to fill up the space. A guy like Bruce Wayne undoubtedly attracted many types of people, and honestly, it baffled me that he wasn’t constantly involved in numerous dating scandals like a lot of other celebrities. I mean, not only did the man have endless pockets of money, he was also considerably handsome--

Wait, no. I mentally slapped myself. What the hell was I thinking?

Yes, Bruce had an...appealing face, to put it lightly, and I couldn’t deny that I found myself infatuated with him, but I wasn’t here for that. This visit was purely professional, and it was going to stay that way. I couldn’t afford clouding my judgement with those types of thoughts, especially during a meeting as important as this. If I was going to be mayor, I would have to learn to ignore my own, personal desires. I hurriedly shoved the intruding fantasies away.

Finally, after an eternity of battling with my inner self, the front door swung open, revealing Alfred in the entryway as he welcomed me into the luxurious manor.

“Ah, Mr. Dent,” he greeted in a proper tone, “A pleasure to meet you. I trust you’re doing all right?”

I grinned. “As good as I can be.”

A pleased look spread across his face, and he stepped to the side, allowing me in. “Excellent. Well, if you’ll follow me, I shall lead you to Master Bruce. He’s rather eager to speak with you.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

Strolling into the extravagant building, I stuck close to the butler as he guided me through the manor’s intricate layout, promptly directing me towards the parlor where Bruce was apparently waiting for me. 

I had to admit, I was excited. I couldn’t pinpoint any specific reason for it, but I had a good feeling about this possible alliance with Bruce. From what I’d heard about the man, he seemed to be a very understanding, compassionate person -- the exact type that Gotham needed more of. To be honest, he reminded me of his father in a way. Hopefully, things would go smoothly with him.

“Tell me,” Alfred said, filling up the silence, “how is the DA’s office treating you? I hope it’s not too much pressure.”

I shrugged. “It can be stressful at times, but it’s worth it. After all, I’m working on making Gotham a safer place. If there’s any chance that being the DA can help with that, I’ll take it.”

The butler was impressed. “Well, I can certainly see why my master has taken a liking to you. Not many politicians share your compassion...which is probably why Bruce tries to avoid them at all costs.”

I let my curiosity peak for a second. “Speaking of which, how is Bruce? I know the press has been desperate for a scandal or two recently.”

Alfred sighed. “Indeed. They’ve been spreading rumors of him participating in criminal activity and whatnot, but all of it -- rubbish. I only hope that these ‘rumors’ don’t reach the wrong ears. Bruce is a good man. And you’d do well to remember that. Ah, but we’ll continue this at a later date. We’re here.”

Coming to a halt in front of the parlor’s door, Alfred signaled me to wait for a moment before lightly knocking on its surface and cracking it open, my heart speeding up significantly as I stood by. 

“Sir,” Alfred called out, pushing the door open completely, “Mr. Dent is here to see you.”

Peeking inside, I saw an occupied Bruce talking on the phone with his back facing us, his entire body whipping around once he noticed he had company.

“Oh,” Bruce blurted out, saying a quick goodbye to whomever he was speaking to. “Hey, there’s something I gotta attend to right now. How about I call you back later? Great. Thanks. Bye.”

Slipping the phone into his pocket, Bruce brought his attention to us and greeted me with a warm smile, his sky-blue eyes almost twinkling with delight. I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t swooning just a bit.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he quickly regained composure. “Mister Dent! It’s so good to finally meet you. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

I returned the smile. “You’re too kind, Mister Wayne.”

He held a casual hand up. “Please, stick to ‘Bruce.” He turned to Alfred. “Thanks for bringing him here, Al.”

The butler gave a small, brief bow. “Of course, sir. Let me know if either of you need anything else. In the meantime, I shall return to my duties.”

Letting himself out, Alfred left Bruce and I alone in the parlor as I took a seat across from the billionaire, the both of us getting comfortable near the fireplace and embracing its heat while he poured us some wine. I nervously tapped my foot and gazed around at the decorations, unsure of where to look.

Jesus. With how friendly Bruce was, you’d think I’d have an easier time calming myself down, but the truth was, I felt even more anxious than before now that it was just the two of us. What was I supposed to say? Or do? How would I persuade Bruce to support me? How did I...act in front of someone like him? What if I messed up? These questions tangled up in my mind, and I found it harder and harder to concentrate by the minute as time seemed to crawl by. Oh, god. This was a mistake.

“Erm -- Mister Dent?”

Snapping out of my thoughts and back to reality, I suddenly realized that Bruce was offering me a glass of wine, standing directly in front of me. I sheepishly took the glass into my hands.

“Oh -- heh, sorry. I...have a tendency to zone out sometimes. I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum.”

Good job, Harvey. I scolded myself. You made the worst first impression possible.

Even then though, Bruce didn’t appear bothered. “No worries,” he reassured. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably just as nervous as you are. I don’t normally talk one-on-one with politicians like this -- or get involved with politics at all, really.”

I took a sip of wine, hoping it would loosen me up a bit. 

“So then why are you interested in the upcoming election, specifically?”

Bruce gazed at me for a moment, his eyes traveling around my figure as if he were...studying me. I patiently waited for an answer.

“...Because,” he replied, “unlike the other candidates, you actually sound like you care about Gotham. Not just by bringing money or tourists to it -- like Mayor Hill wants -- but actually helping its people, and putting the crime in this city to a stop. I can get behind that.”

I nodded in agreement, leaning forward a bit.

“I see what Gotham’s citizens go through every day, Bruce. I’ve seen how they suffer. Hiding in their homes because the streets are too dangerous, never travelling alone in fear of being mugged, always keeping some sort of weapon at hand to protect themselves...” I sighed. “They shouldn’t have to protect themselves though. That’s the thing. This city is home to millions of people. They should feel comfortable here. Safe. Like they can trust those at the top. Instead though, the ones who hold power constantly go back on their word, and endanger the lives of civilians just so their pockets can be a bit heavier, and their crowns can shine a bit brighter. I intend to change that.”

Bruce was clearly a little surprised at how easily I opened up, but seemed to approve nonetheless. 

“If only more people in Gotham saw things your way. I know the GCPD certainly does, but they’re stretched thin. They don’t have enough funds or men to combat the overwhelming amount of crime in this city. All they can do is right now is rush to the scene, slap on a few handcuffs, and ask the same questions over and over again. The law’s pretty much nonexistent in these parts.”

I frowned, upset to admit that Bruce was right. The security in Gotham was borderline pathetic, and it was no surprise that criminals so effortlessly thrived in this city. Why work your tail off for a meager pay when you could break into a bank, without consequence, and swipe all the money you ever dreamed of? It seemed like that mindset was slowly creeping its way into more and more peoples’ heads, and I only hoped that my campaign could change that too. 

I took another sip, looking over at the fireplace.

“...I want a safer Gotham, Bruce. A Gotham where working people can raise their families without fear of being robbed, or stabbed, or worse. I just...” I took a breath, “I know I can make this city better. If only I had a --”

“--Okay, I’ll back you.” Bruce suddenly said, pausing me mid-sentence. I blankly stared at him for a second before chuckling. 

“Come on, Bruce. That joke is in poor taste.”

“I’m serious, Harvey. I’ll fund your campaign. Completely. I’ve lived in Gotham my whole life, and I’ve never seen an official I could believe in...” he gazed at me with alluring eyes, “...until you.”

My heart was racing at this point, and if I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve said that Bruce was...flirting. Did he -- did he like me too? Or was I just imagining things? I cleared my throat.

“Wow, erm -- thank you, Bruce. I...I promise I will not let you down.”

The both of us rose from our seats, preparing to end the discussion.

“Never even crossed my mind,” he responded. “Only question is...this election, or the next?”

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my lucky charm and resting it on top of my thumb as Bruce watched me with an enticing temperament. I smiled at him.

“We’ll let the coin decide.”


	10. The Lady

From Oswald’s POV

THE CELLAR

Sitting with my back against one of the walls, I quietly observed the guard patrolling outside our cell, watching him as he ate his dinner. He seemed to be oblivious to our plans to escape, and so far, William hadn’t sent anyone to kill us. This seemed like a good time to make our break, but I had to wait for Aiden’s signal. After all, he was the one who knew the guards’ patterns and had studied this place to the bone, and there was also the fact that we couldn’t rush Braxton in his condition. Even though he told us not to worry about him, it still seemed like that was the only thing we could do right now.

Sighing to myself, I threw a glance in Braxton’s direction, constantly keeping an eye on him in case something happened. So far, he appeared to be doing all right, considering the circumstances, and judging by how he hadn’t completely collapsed yet, he looked like he was ready to go. I just didn’t want to push him. The plan was to get all of us out of here. Not just me, or Aiden, or Braxton -- all of us. And I intended to keep it that way.

“Psst.”

Slightly jumping at the voice, I suddenly realized that Aiden was kneeling right beside me, his playful smirk beaming through the darkness as he waited for a reply. How long had he been there?

“What?” I whispered back. Aiden casually gestured outside the cell.

“It’s time to...y’know,” he answered. “You ready?”

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be. What d’you need me to do?”

“Well, first of all, I need you stop checking that guard out,” Aiden shrugged in a sarcastic manner. “It would also be handy if you knocked him out and took his key.”

I stuttered. “What are you on about? I’m not checking--” I paused, the two of us exchanging looks for a moment as he gave me an “are you sure” face. I stood up.

“Oh, bloody hell, I’ll be right back. Just gimme a second.” Aiden softly chuckled, returning to his spot as he pulled out the same piece of paper from earlier and eagerly scribbled something down. I would have to ask him what that was later. 

For now though, I simply made my way to the front of the cell, thinking about how I’d get the guard’s attention. I decided to go with the most straightforward approach.

“Oi,” I softly called out, causing him to freeze mid-action. “You -- c’mere.”

At first, he was reluctant and kept his distance, staying in place. “Shut it,” he spat. “Leave me alone.”

“Wait,” I pushed, “it’s important. Just...just here me out, won’t you, mate? I’m gonna die soon anyways.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, calmly sauntering over to me and crossing his arms. Dammit, he still wasn’t close enough for me to reach.

“...what.” He flatly asked.

I beckoned him to come closer. 

“It’s...it’s a secret,” I hurriedly said. “Only you can know.”

The guard was clearly annoyed, but he played along regardless and leaned forward, facing his ear towards me.

“What is it?”

I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbed it affectionately, speaking in a charming tone.

“...I think you’re pretty cute.”

For a second, he merely chuckled, stepping even closer as a red tint washed over his face.

“Is that so?” He grinned flirtatiously.

Jesus Christ. This was not where I was expecting this plan to go.

“Of course,” I lied. “I mean, look at that face. And those lips...who wouldn’t be attracted to them? Mind if I...get a taste? As a goodbye gift?”

He laughed again. “Well, normally I’d say no...but since you asked so nicely....sure. Why not?”

Falling into my trap, the guard practically pressed his entire body against the bars as I subtly reached for his collar, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes and luring him in.

“Y’know,” he said, “I always suspected you fancied me. I just never knew for sure until now. Looks like I was ri--”

Before he could even finish his sentence, I had already snatched him by the shirt and yanked him forward, slamming his head against the bars with a solid, metallic clunk as he stumbled to the floor, unconscious.

“Good,” Aiden praised. “Not the approach I was expecting, but it works. Now find his key! Hurry!”

Crouching down, I frantically patted through the guard’s pockets and even flipped him over to reach the back ones, slipping my hands around his shirt and coat before finally locating a single key. I only hoped this was the right one.

As I tried to find the door’s keyhole however, a second guard suddenly wandered into the cellar, unaware of what had just happened.

“Hey, Freddie, you still down there? The boss says he’s ready to -- what the--?!”

I froze like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do.

“Oi!” He took his weapon out, “the prisoners are trying to escape!”

I immediately grabbed for Freddie’s gun and aimed it directly at the other guard, placing my finger over the trigger when, out of nowhere, he randomly let out a pained grunt and fell in front of me, revealing none other than Richie himself standing behind him -- as well as a combat knife buried deep in his back.

“Richie?” I blurted out, taken off-guard. “You’re...here...!”

A female voice joined the conversation. “He’s not the only one.”

Emerging from Richie’s side, I saw Rosie step into the room with a loaded pistol in her hand as well as a change of clothes. Instead of her usual, grey dress, she was now wearing a suit that looked very similar to the guards’. She must’ve stolen it as a disguise.

“I take it this means you’re coming with us?” I said, pleasantly surprised. Rosie rushed over and unlocked the door, allowing the three of us out.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world. So, what’s the plan?”

Aiden wasted no time in exiting the cell, Braxton following him from behind. “Well, first things first,” he swiped the second guard’s gun, “we need to break out of here. Richie, Rosie, since you two aren’t prisoners like us, you should be able to walk out of here with no problem. I need you guys to go to the garage and steal a vehicle for us, and then meet us outside. Got that?”

Rosie glanced at her brother. “Sure thing. In fact, I can do it alone if you need Richie. Trust me, his strength will be useful.”

Aiden quirked a brow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll probably be better if it’s just me anyways. I won’t attract as much attention on my own. Plus, I’ve got the disguise.”

“Good point. All right then, I guess you’re with us Richie. You cool with that?”

The tall man was clearly reluctant to leave his sister alone, but cooperated nonetheless and gave us a silent nod as agreement.

Aiden smiled. “Nice. Why don’t you stick with Oz? Because let’s be honest -- you two are the best fighters we have in the group right now, and I’m pretty useless in that aspect. How do you think I got captured in the first place? I’m gonna need you guys to clear the path. Meanwhile, I’ll take Braxton with me along a sneakier route, and meet you two at the vehicle. Sound good?”

I didn’t want to separate from Hugh, but Aiden knew this place better than any of us. I was just going to have to trust him to keep Braxton safe. I accepted.

“Sounds good.” I confirmed.

“That don’t mean I can’t help though,” Braxton added. “If you find yourself in trouble, I’ll be there. After all, I’m still handy with a gun.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. “Be careful on the way out, all right?”

Aiden gave me a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands. Just focus on the mission, and get the hell outta here.”

I chuckled. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” I nudged Richie and got my pistol ready, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get to work.”

~~~~~~~~~~

KANE HQ

Sneaking through headquarters, Richie and I slithered past William’s other men as we stuck to the shadows, clearing the guards that blocked our way and keeping Aiden out of sight while he and Braxton took them out from hiding. So far, things seemed to be going according to plan, and no alarms had been set off ever since we broke out of the cellar. Despite our escape going smoothly however, I couldn’t help feeling a bit concerned about leaving Rosie on her own. 

I mean, I had never seen the woman fight before, and as far as I was concerned, her father hadn’t trained her like the rest of his gangsters. Though, I guessed when you were William fucking Kane’s daughter, and you lived among criminals, learning how to defend yourself was just part of the package. Maybe she had always known how to fight all along, and just never showed it until now. Who knew? There was the possibility that she even taught Richie to wield a gun. Part of me was starting to think that her uniform wasn’t the only disguise she wore.

“I guess you found King,” Richie said as we steadily ascended a staircase, averting my attention. “I knew you’d find a way to break free. Just didn’t expect I’d be coming along with you.”

I snaked along the wall, practically flattening myself against the surface. “R’you sure you wanna leave this place behind?” I double-checked. “You didn’t look too eager back there.”

He shook his head. “I’m just not incredibly familiar with the idea of freedom, is all. What am I supposed to do when there’s no one around giving me orders?”

I grinned. “Whatever you want, mate. That’s the beauty of it. No one can steer your ship but you. It’s really not as hard as you may think. I mean, you’ve already taken the first step just by coming with me, haven’t you? Imagine what you’ll be capable of doing once we reach the outside.”

Richie let out an uneasy sigh. “You make it sound so easy. I suppose I’ll just have to find out for myself. It can’t be worse than staying here.”

“That’s the spirit,” I laughed. “Kind of.”

The taller man pointed ahead. “Look,” he rushed forward a bit, “we’re almost out. We just have to get past those guards.”

I cocked my gun. “All right. You take out the one on the left, I’ll handle the bloke on the right.”

Nodding without a word, Richie wandered off to do his job whilst I scurried behind a wall, waiting for an opportunity to strike as the guards strolled around in a bored fashion, lazily watching the entrance and making idle conversation.

“So? Any news on the prisoners?” The one on the right asked.

“I think the boss is gonna have ‘em killed,” the other replied. “Pity. That Cobblepot geezer was fun to watch in the ring. Never seen a boxer like him before. He knew how to throw a punch -- that’s for sure.”

“What, you a fan of his?”

“I am, actually. You got a problem with that? Hate him all you want -- you can’t deny he brought a lot of money our way. Seems like a stupid idea for Kane to kill him off. Oh, well. He is the boss. Can’t really argue with that.”

“Yeah, and if you’re smart, you won’t try. Otherwise, you might join Cobblepot.”

Tapping the guard on the shoulder, I casually waited for him to turn around before clearing my throat and smiling at him, tightening my grip on my weapon.

“What,” he bluntly asked. “I’m kinda busy here -- wait! It’s you--!”

Before he could finish what he was going to say, I had already slammed the butt of my gun into his head, knocking him out cold and immediately aiming the pistol at the second guard as Richie restrained them from behind.

“Cobblepot!?” The guard exclaimed. “We -- we was just talkin’ about you!”

I approached him and stepped over his unconscious friend, greeting him with a smirk as I snickered.

“Yeah. I heard.” I signaled for Richie to let him go. “We’ll let it slide -- this time. Oh, and you never saw us.”

The guard instantly ran off. “Y-yes, of course! Thank you!”

As we watched him frantically disappear from sight, Richie stepped closer to me, concern plastering his face.

“You sure we should’ve done that?” He questioned, his voice low and serious as always. I started heading for the exit.

“Hey, I’m not William. I actually appreciate my supporters. Besides, we’re gonna need all the help we can get if we wanna survive out there. But we can talk later. C’mon. We’re nearly out of here.”

The two of us began jogging for the doors, that was, until we heard a third voice call us out from off to the side. 

“Oi!” They shouted. “The prisoner’s have escaped!”

Both mine and Richie’s heads snapped towards the source, only to spot a bouncer storming towards us in an attempt to block our way. I cursed under my breath as more and more of William’s men began to join him.

“Fuck me,” I grabbed Richie’s arm. “Hurry! We gotta go!”

Breaking into a sprint, we bolted away from the growing stampede of gangsters that was chasing us down when gunfire suddenly filled the air as bullets soared across the room, a few of them planting themselves into the guards’ brains, and splattering the walls with blood.

Looking to see where the bullets were coming from, I noticed a proud Braxton standing not too far away from us with a smoking gun in his hand and Aiden by his side as the two of them helped keep the crowd at bay.

“Great job, guys!” Aiden exclaimed. “This is further than I’ve ever made it! Follow me -- the exit’s right there!”

Together, the four of us practically flew towards the double-doors leading to freedom, all hell breaking loose behind us as we desperately reached for the entrance and saw a friendly pair of car headlights flashing outside. Rosie must’ve succeeded in stealing the vehicle.

Busting the doors open, a blast of fresh air washed over me as I took a deep, relieving breath through my nose and paused for a brief second to savor the moment we had all been waiting for. We were finally out. We escaped against all odds, and we slipped out of death’s grasp. We actually did it. 

“Get in!” Rosie called out, snapping me back to reality. I quickly shook the thoughts out of my head and hurled myself into the car, all of us barely inside before we took off like a bird set free from its cage, William’s men hollering at us from the building’s doorstep.

Aiden let out an ecstatic laugh in celebration. “We did it! We really did it! And here I was thinking about how I was gonna explain getting four people killed in one night to my group.”

I patted his back. “Thanks for your help, Aiden. Seriously. We’d probably be dead now if it weren’t for you.” I glanced at Braxton. “Looks like someone owes me a drink.”

He adjusted his hat, grinning. “And their life. You did well tonight, Oz. Wish I could see that discarded bellend’s face once he learns we’ve gone.”

“Can’t look any worse than yours.” I joked.

Braxton chuckled. “I should’ve left you back in the cellar with your new guard boyfriend. What was the lad’s name -- Freddie?”

I felt my face turn hot. “Do me a favor and forget I ever did that.”

“How else am I supposed to embarrass you?”

I scoffed. “No need. I do that entirely on my own.”

Rosie jumped in the conversation. “Hey, Aiden -- where are we headed?”

Aiden took out his all-too-familiar piece of paper, attentively jotting down even more notes as he explained the directions to Rosie. How was there still any space left on that paper? It wasn’t even a full page. Some of its edges looked torn. He must’ve ripped it out of a notebook.

The more we drove though, the heavier my eyelids felt, and the more I found myself drifting to sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper night’s rest, and with the rumbling of the car’s engine combined with the night’s blanketing darkness, it became nearly impossible to stay awake.

Gazing out the window at London’s rain-covered scenery, I finally allowed myself to be carried away by my dreams as William’s headquarters shrunk more and more in the distance, and Rosie brought us closer to our destination. Life seemed to be continuing on as always in the city, and with all the normalcy surrounding us, it almost started to feel like our whole incident in the cellar was just a nightmare, but I knew that wasn’t the case.

Ah, well. Right now, all I cared about was getting some shut-eye. Even though we were finally free from William, I doubted that our journey was going to get any easier, and we were definitely going to see him again at some point, but a part of me couldn’t help being excited for what was to come. Maybe Rosie was right, and this would be my time to shine after a long, nineteen years. Maybe this was when I would finally get my revenge.

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT NIGHT

“Oz!” I heard Aiden whispering. “Wake up...!” Why was it always him?

Rising from what felt like a drunken stupor, I realized that we had reached...wherever this place was, and that everyone else in the car had cleared out. It seemed like mere moments ago that I fell asleep, but judging by the sun peeking over the horizon, that was clearly not the case. I must’ve been more tired than I thought.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Aiden said with a smile. “We’re here. The rest of the group is just outside. Care to join us?”

I practically crawled my way out of the car. “I’d be delighted. You think I’m a beauty, eh?”

He took hold of my hand, giving me some help. “You may not be a fair maiden with golden hair, but you’re certainly looking good considering what we just went through.”

Before we could continue our talk, an unfamiliar, female voice suddenly reached our ears, speaking in an alarmed tone at the other people in our group. Aiden instantly hurried over to the commotion.

“Ah, shit. Gimme a minute,” he jogged towards the voice. “Hey, calm down! It’s just me, Aiden! These people are with me. They helped me break out of Kane’s HQ. Put the guns away.”

“Are you shitting me, Aiden?” The other person snapped back. “This is literally William Kane’s daughter. Have you lost your mind?”

I joined the tense conversation, only to find a young, fierce woman holding Rosie at gunpoint. She was a tad shorter than her, had green eyes, and her brown hair was tied in a high ponytail. Her accent also sounded like she was from Gotham. Who was she?

“Without them,” Aiden countered, “I would’ve lost my life. Believe me. We can trust them. I wouldn’t have taken them if I didn’t think we could. ...What if I told you I brought your favorite boxer along with us?”

The woman paused. “...wait, what are you talking about?”

He gestured over to me in a presenting manner as the woman lowered her gun out of surprise, and the group parted in order to let me through. I cautiously walked up to her.

“Oswald,” Aiden introduced us as shock slowly covered the woman’s face, “meet your number one fan. Vicki Vale.”


	11. Cutthroat

From Bruce’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

Sitting in the study, I powered my way through the stack of paperwork resting on my desk as I reviewed business proposals, letters, and envelopes that were waiting to be opened. As much as being CEO benefited me, I couldn’t deny that it was still a pain to go through what felt like the exact same document over and over again. I knew that there was a specific format to follow when writing business letters, but these people could’ve at least put in some effort and made it interesting to read. 

Thankfully though, no one at Wayne Enterprises seemed to be aware of my “other” businesses. As far as my colleagues were concerned, I was just the innocent, billionaire, playboy son of Thomas Wayne. Nothing more, nothing less. And considering how well my recent meeting with Harvey Dent went, I assumed he didn’t suspect anything either. To be honest, I was rather surprised at how easily the DA fell for my “mask.” The poor bastard clearly had no idea what he was really getting himself into, and I had no intentions on letting him figure it out. Men like him rarely ever won in the world of politics.

Coming to my rescue before I could fry my brain any further however, my phone suddenly began to ring as it shifted slightly across the wooden surface, the letters “AB” flashing on the screen. Why was Brannigan calling me? Had his assassin already killed King? I quickly retrieved the device.

Bringing the phone up to my ear and answering the call, I stood up from the desk and began wandering around the office as Brannigan’s voice came through. 

“Wayne.” He greeted, his tone hesitant with worry. I didn’t like where this was going.

“I’m here, Brannigan,” I replied flatly. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news, sir. It’s about Aiden King.”

“I figured. Did you have him killed like we discussed? The answer better be ‘yes.”

Brannigan paused for a second, thinking about how to proceed. “...that’s the thing, sir. I hired an assassin just as you ordered, and promptly sent him to Kane’s headquarters. The target however, was nowhere to be seen.”

I furrowed my brow, facing the fireplace behind me as I leaned back against the desk’s edge.

“What do you mean, ‘nowhere to be seen?”

“Aiden’s not there, Bruce. In fact, the assassin reported that there were no prisoners at all. William’s cellar is completely empty. King must have escaped.”

I cursed under my breath. “Dammit.”

“How would you like to handle this? Shall I cancel the contract with the assassin?”

I shook my head. “No. King may not be around William anymore, but he’s still a threat to our plan. He needs to die. Besides, if we’re discreet, it’s possible we could follow him right to his organization’s base. Tell the assassin to keep tracking him down. I’ll even throw in a little bonus if he can give me his group’s location.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll have a quick talk with William -- see if he can clear this mess up. Keep me updated.”

Ending the call, I scrolled all the way to the bottom of my contacts and wasted no time in ringing William, subconsciously tapping my foot as I waited for an answer.

“Mister Wayne,” he finally said, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was uneasy. “This is an unexpected surprise.”

I scoffed. “Is it? You let Aiden King escape. You must’ve known I’d find out sooner or later.”

He let out a defeated sigh. “News travels fast, I see. Well, I’m afraid it’s true. He broke free just last night, actually.”

I crossed my arms. “...and? Do you know where he could’ve gone? Do you have anyone trying to find him? What about your other prisoners? I’m told they’ve flown the coop as well.”

“Yes, indeed. In fact, they helped Aiden escape -- or rather -- he helped them.”

“Who were these other prisoners?” I asked, taking a mental note of what William was telling me. “What were their names?”

The crime-boss thought for a second. “...believe it or not, two of them were my very own children. Richie and Rosie. They weren’t being held prisoner, but they were in on the plan. As for the rest, well, there was Hugh Braxton -- a ‘business partner’ of mine, and there was also his...protégé, I suppose you could say. A young man around your age named Oswald Cobblepot.”

I froze, a pang of realization tightly clutching my chest as I tried to comprehend what he just said. I hadn’t heard that name in nearly twenty years.

“I’m sorry, what?” I stuttered. “Oswald Cobblepot?”

“He used to work as a boxer for my establishment,” William explained. “Brought a significant amount of money into the business by fighting in matches -- up until he was thrown in the cellar, of course. Though, it turns out he’s much more resourceful than I anticipated. Why? That name mean something to you?”

Gaping at the fireplace with a loose jaw, I found myself at a loss for words and lowered the phone from my ear, abruptly ending the call without saying another word as William blurted out in confusion, his voice cutting off once I stuffed the device into my pocket. 

Could it really be? I questioned, biting my lip in concentration. Was it possible that William was talking about a different Oz? I mean, “Oswald Cobblepot” wasn’t exactly a common name, and to my knowledge, he moved to England after that whole disaster with his parents. He also said he was around my age. There was no way this was a coincidence.

Jesus Christ, I thought to myself. After all this time of being so far apart, and Oz still somehow managed to sneak back into my life. Part of me wanted to hop onto the very next plane to London and search for him -- consequences be damned -- but I knew that would be foolish. I had worked too hard and achieved too much to throw it all away for some ghost from my past, and there was also the fact that he was apparently with Aiden King. Oz and I had been friends once, sure, but if my plan was going to succeed, I couldn’t let anything hinder my judgement. No matter how much I wanted to just...let go sometimes.

At the same time though, I couldn’t deny that I was incredibly tired of playing this game of cutthroats with Hill and Falcone. With all the secrets and the constant gambling of trust, there were days when I wondered if the throne of Gotham was even worth it. And to be perfectly honest, I felt like I was doing this more for my father than the actual power.

As a child, he always lectured me about the “Wayne legacy” and how it was my responsibility to carry on the bloodline, but truth be told -- I never cared about any of that. I mean, I had no oppositions to finding a special someone and settling down with them, but I never saw the point in having children. 

What was the significance? So I could explain to them how their grandparents died and that I might share the same fate someday? That they would live a life of orphanage as kids and a life of crime as adults? No. The last thing I would ever wish upon my children was for them to become me. My life was a mess already. I didn’t want to burden my kids with it.

In an attempt to clear my head, I decided to distract myself with the remaining paperwork and turned around, hastily returning to my desk. Before I could even sit down however, a polite knock came from the door and was soon followed by a chain of footsteps as Alfred let himself in, revealing a guest beside him.

“Master Bruce, you have a visitor.”

I didn’t recognize the man who accompanied Alfred, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone, but judging by the white rose sticking out of his suit’s pocket, I guessed he was one of Falcone’s people. A messenger, perhaps?

“Thanks, Al,” I said. “Let him in.”

Stepping aside to allow the mysterious figure in, Alfred shut the door behind him as the guest walked to the front of my desk, folding his hands behind his back. I examined him for a moment, eyeing him up-and-down. He was significantly taller than me, and considering how his shirt strained around the belly, he also carried a lot more weight. He didn’t look like a messenger. Rather, he gave me the impression of a bodyguard.

I gestured for him to have a seat. “Welcome. I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting before, Mister...?”

“De Luca,” he answered. “But you can just call me Claudio.”

My eyes narrowed. “...All right, Claudio. What brings you here? No one told me you were coming.”

He chuckled. “I’d be surprised if they did. You see, I’ve got a very important message for you. The type that you can’t risk reaching unwanted ears. I’m sure you understand.”

“And who is this message from, exactly?” I questioned. “Did Falcone send you?”

Claudio shook his head. “No, no. That doesn’t matter. You have to realize, this is a different kind of message. Y’know, the kind where the point is made through actions instead of words. And in this case, the action is me...” I saw a glint flash from his hand, “...putting this through you.”

Before I even had a chance to react, the man was already charging at me with a knife aimed at my throat, and it felt like the entire world started moving in slow-motion. 

Stumbling onto the floor, I hurriedly reached for the gun hidden under my desk, but was suddenly interrupted when Claudio violently seized me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, practically knocking my lungs out of my chest. I desperately clawed at his meaty hands, drinking in the oxygen around me.

“You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately, Bruce. I’m here to make sure that stops.”

Out of instinct, I rammed my knee into his groin and headbutted him, causing the larger man to topple backwards and drop his knife. Taking advantage of the opening, I then snatched the blade into my own grip and climbed on top of Claudio, using my weight to pin him down as I held the weapon directly at his thick neck. I grabbed a handful of his collar, bringing his face up to mine.

“Give me names. Now.”

Claudio turned away from me. “Nah, we’re not doin’ this. You may as well kill me now, ‘cause I won’t break, Wayne.”

I threw a flesh-rippling punch into his nose, earning a howl of pain from him as blood spurted from his nostrils.

“Maybe not, but your bones will. Now tell me -- who sent you?”

Still, the stubborn man refused. 

Out of patience, I aggressively snatched his hand and pushed one of the fingers a little too far back, snapping it out of place with a sickening crack. Claudio shrieked again. I cautiously checked the door in case Alfred might show up.

“Do you really want to test me?” I threatened. “My time’s running out, and yours is already up. So spill it!”

He whimpered in agony. “...It’s true what those rumors say about you. Y-you’re a goddamn animal...!”

Taking hold of a second finger, I steadily began to force that one down as a warning, applying more and more pressure on it.

“W-wait!” Claudio exclaimed, flailing out of panic. “All right, all right! I’ll tell you! Just stop! STOP! Fuckin’ hell!”

I hurled his arm to the floor. “Who sent you?! And this is your last chance, De Luca. I’d use it, if I were you.”

“Mario!” He shouted. “Mario Falcone sent me! He’s the one who wants you dead!”

I paused. “Mario? Carmine’s son?”

“Yeah! He said he wanted revenge because you killed one his pals -- Tommy Faenza, I think their name was.”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” I muttered. “Looks like I have a message of my own to send him.”

A glint of hope twinkled in Claudio’s eyes. “I-I could send it for you! I’ll go right now! I’ll make sure he gets the warning, loud and clear.”

I scoffed and stood up, slipping the knife into my suit as I looked down at De Luca, wondering what to do with him. I couldn’t let Alfred see him because then he’d insist I report it to the GCPD -- and right now, the last thing I needed was an investigation from them. But I couldn’t just let him go either. There was no telling what he’d do if I set him free, and I certainly didn’t trust him enough to not complete the job at a later date. Perhaps it was best if I finished him off the same way I did Tommy. In the cave.

I took out my secret remote which controlled the cave’s hidden entrance, Claudio’s eyes following my every move.

“...No,” I rejected. “Your head will serve as warning enough.”


	12. The Child

From Oswald’s POV

Following Aiden through his organization’s base, my new friend led me to what would be my room whilst everyone else got settled in their own. This place wasn’t nearly as big as William’s, and there appeared to be less people, but it definitely felt more cozy. I didn’t have to worry about numerous guards keeping me under constant surveillance, and the overall relaxed vibe made it seem more like a sanctuary rather than a place of operation. I liked it. 

“Nice home you guys have here.” I commented, earning a grateful smile from Aiden.

“Thanks,” he replied. “We worked hard to make it what it is today. It may not be as fancy as what the other gangs have, but to me, that’s why it’s the best. I hope you’ll feel the same way.”

I chuckled. “Well, if you lot are any friendlier than William’s men, we should have no problems.” A sudden wave of worry rolled over me. “...Speaking of which, how’s Braxton? Is anyone takin’ a look at him?”

Aiden nodded. “Yeah. Even though he insisted he was all right, I still had Braxton sent down to the infirmary for now. They’re treating him as we speak. Your friend took a helluva beating.”

I sighed. “All because of me.”

“Hey,” Aiden rested a hand on my shoulder, “you can’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s not your fault William’s a dick. He’s the one who beat Braxton up. Not you.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t help the situation. I just wish I could’ve done something. Stopped William in some way...instead of sitting there like an idiot, watching the show. Braxton’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, don’t get me wrong, but not even he’s invincible.” I shrugged. “I suppose at this point, I’m just glad the bastard survived.”

Aiden beamed. “...All because of you.” He gestured ahead with a welcoming hand. “C’mon. We’re almost at your room.”

Strolling further into the corridor, we passed by multiple other rooms, most of them still shut and locked considering how early it was. Though, despite almost everyone being asleep, there was one door in the process of creaking open as its resident quietly slipped out into the hallway, already geared up and set to go. Aiden threw a casual wave in their direction.

“Morning, Erik.” He greeted. The man only continued prowling by, acting as if we weren’t even there. Aiden glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Not the most talkative man,” he murmured. “Reminds me a bit of your friend Richie.”

“Yeah. It’ll take some time for him to adjust. He’s not exactly used to this type of life.”

Aiden gave me a questioning look. “And what type of life is this?”

I was silent for a moment. “Well, I guess you could say it’s--”

The other man shook his finger. “Trick question, friend. There aren’t different ‘types’ of lives. It just goes where you take it. For instance, some would’ve said you live the life of a prisoner after being locked up by William. And yet, here you are, walking as a free man the next day.”

I chuckled. “I’m far from a free man, Aiden.”

“Oh? I don’t see you wearing chains. And we broke out of that cellar together...so what is it exactly that’s holding you back? No need to answer this question either -- not right away, at least. Just somethin’ to think about when you’re trying to figure out who to punch. Perhaps Richie should hear it too. But we can talk more later. Here’s your room.”

Unlocking the wooden door, Aiden softly swung it open and allowed me to enter first as I eagerly stepped into what would be my new home, the red sun greeting me through a window on the opposite wall as its curtains gently draped over its frame.

“Nothing too flashy,” Aiden said, leaning against a wall, “but I think you’ll like it.”

Wandering around, I gladly took in the calm nature that my room seemed to give off and plopped myself down onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief as the mattress sank underneath me. I heard Aiden laugh.

“Feels much better the cellar’s stone floor, doesn’t it?”

I grinned. “It sure does. This room’s perfect.”

Looking upwards, I noticed that Aiden was writing something on his piece of paper again, his brow furrowed in concentration. I finally let my curiosity take control for once.

“Hey, Aiden.” I called out, catching his attention. He turned his head slightly towards me without taking his eyes off his notes.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“I-I’ve been meaning to ask...what’s that paper you’re always scribbling on?”

Aiden walked over and took a seat beside me, paper still in hand.

“Oh, it used to be a full notebook, but I had to burn that before William’s men captured me. Couldn’t risk them learning about our plans, so I just tore this piece out and kept it with me.”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Still don’t explain why you’re constantly takin’ notes.”

Aiden pointed to his messy, tangled hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, Oz, I’m not exactly the most organized person in the world. Especially when it comes to remembering things. I guess you could say the paper’s kind of a...planner? I just make a checklist of stuff I have to do, and cross them off along the way. Have a look.”

Taking the crinkly notebook page into my grasp, I carefully unfolded the thin material before reading its contents, shocked at how much Aiden had written down. The paper was probably no bigger than my palm and yet, the bloke had managed to fit lines upon lines of tiny text -- all of them marked with a small, drawn box off to the side. Though, not every single one was checked. I mouthed the words to myself as my eyes traveled across the page.

“Come up with plan to escape cellar, check. Get new prisoners’ help, check. Escape from Kane, check.” 

I came to an abrupt pause, unsure of what the next one meant. 

“...Find Vivienne,” I read aloud. “...Unchecked. Who’s Vivienne?”

Aiden’s seemingly permanent smile suddenly vanished at the sound of that name, and his gaze drooped to the floor out of sorrow.

“Oh,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “That’s...my older sister. She went missing not too long ago, during a mission in Gotham. We haven’t found her yet.”

I handed the paper back to Aiden. “Shit. I’m sorry, mate. Anythin’ I can do to help?”

He stuffed the paper into his jacket’s pocket, almost like he didn’t want to look at it anymore.

“Honestly, I don’t think so. We don’t have any evidence to confirm it yet, but from what I’ve heard so far, Bruce Wayne may have been the last person to see her...and you know how that man can be. You don’t think he would’ve...” Aiden choked up, holding back his words.

I shook my head. “No, of course not. I know Bruce has changed, but I was actually his friend as a kid. A close friend. Trust me -- underneath that hard shell, he’s got a good heart. He’s not merciless. I’m sure your sister’s okay.”

Aiden’s smile returned somewhat. “Thanks, Oz. You know, it actually makes sense the two of you used to be friends.”

I raised a brow. “It does?”

“Yeah. You’re both hell raisers in your own way, and you’ve got a love for theatrics. You guys fit well together. Though, I’m not sure how you’d feel about Bruce’s behavior today.”

I sighed. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“That we will, but it looks like someone else is here to see you now.”

Bringing my attention to the doorway, I saw the same woman from earlier standing just outside, her head peeking in with curiosity.

“Hey, you.” Aiden said, rising to his feet.

“Hi,” she shyly replied, practically hiding behind the wall, “...is this a bad time?”

“No, no. Not at all. I was actually just heading out.” Aiden turned to me. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Wouldn’t wanna deny your number one fan from getting an autograph.”

“Oh, shut up.” The woman playfully responded as Aiden waltzed through the exit, shutting the door behind him. We could both hear him let out a laugh in the hallway. I approached the woman once he was gone.

“Hey,” I greeted. “Vicki, right?”

She beamed, smiling bashfully as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You remembered. It’s...it’s an honor to meet you, finally. I’ve heard so much about you. ...Some of it even good.”

I chuckled. “I promise, I’m not as bad as the people I used to work with. Hell, they hated me so much they threw me in a cell.”

“So I’ve heard,” Vicki shifted a little, clearly nervous to be speaking with me. “I hope everyone made it out safely. And sorry about earlier, by the way. Y’know, holding your friend at gunpoint and everything.”

I waved it off. “I get it. You were just being cautious. No one can blame you for that. As for everyone being safe...none of us got hurt on the way out at least, but Braxton took more than a few punches the day before.”

“Braxton,” Vicki repeated, “that’s the man they sent down to the infirmary?”

“That’s him.”

She seemed impressed. “He’s pretty tough for someone his age.”

I snickered. “Don’t let him hear you say that. The man’s got a lot of pride. Anyways,” I sat back down, giving Vicki a grin, “Aiden said you wanted an autograph?”

“Actually, I was just hoping to talk to you before the meeting.”

I paused. “Wait, what meeting?”

“Oh, Aiden must’ve forgotten to mention that. We’re planning on having a meeting later to discuss this whole business with Brannigan, and how we’re going to kill him.”

I pointed a hand towards her. “Are you gonna be there?”

She nodded. “I’ll be at the meeting, yes, but I won’t be there during the actual mission. I’m afraid I’m not as skilled as you when it comes to fighting.”

“So, what is it you do here exactly?”

“I gather information,” Vicki answered. “Mostly about our enemies. You’re gonna need my help if we’re going to bring Bruce Wayne to London. Trust me.”

I leaned forward. “Well, seeing as how you’re the one with all the info, d’you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Vicki stepped closer. “Go right ahead. What would you like to know?”

“For starters, who are you people?”

“Good question. We’re called the Insurrection. We were formed a few years ago to bring down people like Wayne and his colleagues, but then, we discovered that his ‘business’ spanned all the way to England. That’s why we’ve got a base here too. We have agents in both Gotham and London.”

I looked around. “...and who’s your leader?”

A puzzled look spread across Vicki’s face. “She calls herself Lady Arkham, but no one’s actually met her face-to-face. She likes to hide, you see. Doesn’t make her presence known. Though, rumor has it she has another, smaller, elite organization where she personally picks the members. They’re called the Children of Arkham.”

That caught my interest. “Is anyone here a ‘Child of Arkham?”

Vicki shrugged. “That’s the thing. No one knows. They’re like secret agents. If any of them are among us, they won’t make it as obvious as we’d wish. Good thing is though, they’re on our side, so we don’t have to worry about it anyways. Who knows? Maybe Lady Arkham will recruit you someday.”

I scoffed with a laugh. “I can fight, but I’m just a boxer. Nothin’ special ‘bout me. I’m not exactly what you’d call elite material.”

The woman eyed me for a moment, examining my every move. “I beg to differ.”

Taken a bit off guard by the sudden change in temperament, I remained silent, unsure of what to say in response. Vicki quietly cleared her throat.

“Anyways,” she changed the subject, “do you have an alias yet?”

I was confused. “An alias?”

“It’s important that our agents don’t go by their real name when they’re on a mission,” Vicki explained. “It makes it more difficult for our enemies to track us down. I’m assuming you haven’t thought of one?”

I thought for a second. “Hmm, I guess I could go by...”

Vicki offered some suggestions. “If you’d like, we can dig up some of the unused names and let you choose--”

“--Penguin.”

She halted mid-sentence and stared at me, unable to tell if I was being serious.

“...Penguin,” she repeated. “That’s what you want to be called?”

I smirked. “I think it fits me, don’t you?”

Vicki clearly didn’t quite understand the alias, and it was obvious that she had about a hundred other names in mind, but she went along with it nonetheless.

“If you’re comfortable with it, then sure, why not? It’s just a little...strange, is all.”

“Like I said, it fits me.”

She smiled in a lively manner, her eyes lighting up with understanding. “That it does. Well, I suppose we should go check if they’re ready for the meeting. Unless, of course, you’d rather head down on your own. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to become familiar with your new room first.”

I opened the door for Vicki, gesturing outside as I returned the smile. “I’d rather become more familiar with you.”

She appeared slightly taken aback by the comment for a second, but eventually opened up and gladly joined me as we ventured downstairs together, saying a little something in my ear before we left.

“You know, I’m glad you’re here, Oz. For some reason, I get the feeling things are about to change drastically now that we have your help.”

I quirked a brow. “For better or for worse?”

Walking past me, Vicki threw a mysterious glance in my direction. “...We’ll see soon, won’t we...Penguin.”


	13. A Good Samaritan

From Bruce’s POV

WAYNE MANOR

Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I solemnly observed one of the many photos I kept of my parents as heavy rain poured outside, loudly pattering against the tall, ornate windows which allowed slivers of moonlight to creep in, illuminating the room with a dim glow as the raindrops’ silhouettes drizzled down, and thunder struck.

It had only been a day since I killed De Luca, and already I was questioning if that was the right move. After all, I had gotten so used to dealing with experienced, decrepit mobsters such as Hill and Maroni, that I completely forgot I was dealing with a little boy now. Mario.

Even though Mario was around the same age as me, he was far less attentive when it came to dealing with...“business.” He didn’t quite understand the concept of action and consequence as clearly as his father yet, and if his behavior today was anything like it was nineteen years ago, I had a feeling that De Luca’s death would trigger an ugly ending.

Reaching a hand out, I removed the framed photo from its place on my bookshelf and brought it into my grip, holding it close as I went to sit on the edge of the bed. 

It was the only picture I could find from my parents’ wedding day -- the only one that didn’t include me. 

Mom and Dad looked so peaceful in it. You’d never know they were involved with crime, or mobsters like Falcone. They just looked like any other newly-wed couple out there. Happy, in love, and ready to start the next chapter in their lives. But also the last.

I sighed to myself, thinking back to when I was a child. Things weren’t necessarily simpler back then, but I definitely had a lot less responsibilities. Less struggles. I was surrounded by friends and family, I didn’t have to worry about dealing with the thugs of the underworld, I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder out of paranoia, and most of all, I was able to just...be me...around people. There were no masks involved, no charades, no games. I was just Bruce Wayne. No more, no less.

Now though, I had no idea who the hell I was. 

I was no saint -- that much I knew. And if De Luca’s comments about me being rumored as “an animal” held any truth behind them, it was safe to say I wasn’t known for my kindness.

To be truthful, a part of me was frightened at myself with how I handled De Luca. Interrogating a man by breaking his bones in my own office, and then murdering him in cold blood even after he surrendered, only to throw his body into the bottomless depths of that eerie cave...all before assuring Alfred everything was fine.

What kind of a monster was I to do that type of stuff? Alfred was sharing a roof with a murderer -- that he raised -- and he didn’t even know it. As far as he was concerned, I was merely the CEO of a company that was handed to me at birth. I was harmless, and an upstanding citizen of Gotham. Little did he know, I was also the prince of this city. 

I only wondered when the day would come that he finally discovered my true identity, and every fiber in my being dreaded it.

Before I could think any further though, I was interrupted when I suddenly heard the doors to my bedroom slam open with a strong whoosh, revealing a livid and outraged young man standing in the entryway. And as if that wasn’t concerning enough, I could also see the sharp rim of a gun barrel glinting in the darkness -- aiming directly at me. I calmly acknowledged my guest, still keeping the framed photo in hand.

“And what on earth do you think you’re doing, exactly, Mario?”

The boy closed the distance between us, his gun trembling in his grasp as he breathed heavily through his nostrils.

“...You know damn well why I’m here, Bruce,” he growled back through gritted teeth. “First you kill Tommy -- and now De Luca? Both of those men were my friends, and you’re going to pay for them.”

I placed the photo aside and stood up, crossing my arms.

“Ah, so you’re here for revenge,” I concluded. “Is that it? Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. Revenge is tricky to control. If you’re not careful with it, it can start to control you...and only fools let that happen.” I took a seat at my desk, leaning back into its velvet cushions. 

“You’re not a fool, Mario. Using the notion that you were going to help me as a mask to cover your ulterior motives -- I’ll admit, you took me slightly by surprise with Mr. De Luca’s visit. Unfortunately however, you were careless. And it cost the poor man his life. Do you want that to happen again?”

Mario’s nose crinkled in frustration. “Don’t try to make me second-guess myself! I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I know how you work, Bruce. I know how you climbed your way to the top. You kill anyone who stands in your way, and now you’re going after the mayor himself! How is that any different from what I’m doing?”

“I’m not killing Hamilton for revenge,” I corrected. “Don’t get me wrong -- he could die tomorrow and I’d feel nothing, but getting rid of him is a necessary step to take in order for my plan to succeed.”

I placed a hand on my chest. “Getting rid of me though...how does that benefit you, Mario? I mean, your father said it himself: we were close growing up, no? Practically brothers. I don’t see what you could gain other than a handful of new enemies by shooting me tonight.”

The young man scoffed. “Bullshit. We were never close. You always looked down on me as a child. I could tell. You and that...that Cobblepot boy!”

I chuckled, though not out of amusement. “Are you sure about that? If I recall correctly, you were the one always bullying him, trying to pick a fight.” I gestured to him with both hands. “And now, nineteen years later, here you are again, waving a gun in my face. Old habits die hard...don’t they?”

I continued talking, hoping to distract Mario from this idiotic plan before he got himself killed, but to no avail. Instead, the boy’s gun only seemed to get closer to my face, and the longer I watched him, the more I realized that this was most-likely the last time I’d ever see him alive. I let out a disappointed breath.

“...It’s clear to me that you’re not leaving until one of us drops dead.” I slowly retrieved the photo and unlocked its frame, subtly pulling out a hidden, encased gun as I used the shadows to cloak my actions.

“I already beat you once as a child, Mario,” I warned. “Do you really want this to end like last time?”

Mario’s face twisted even more out of anger, and I could see his hand tightening. “This isn’t last time. And we’re not children anymore, Bruce.”

I finally gave in, my expression flattening with apathy. 

“...No. We’re not.”

Before Mario could even take his next breath, I had fired a bullet directly into the boy’s forehead with a sharp bang, ceasing all action from him as he innocently stared at me, almost like he hadn’t quite realized what just happened yet.

Not a moment later though, and Mario was collapsing into the shadows, the sound of a heavy thud reaching my ears as lightning flashed outside, and the stench of blood filled my nostrils.

I let out a sigh, gently securing the gun back into the picture frame as I stood up.

Just another corpse to add to the pile, I thought to myself. Another life taken. 

The question was -- how many more?

As I returned the photo to my bookshelf however, I heard a series of rapid footsteps speeding in my direction, followed by a panic-ridden Alfred bolting into my room, rifle in hand.

“Bruce!” He exclaimed, out of breath. “I heard a gunshot. Are you all right?”

Alfred’s gaze fell to Mario, his face twisting in disgust. “What...what in hell’s name happened here?”

I straightened the photo’s position, calmly reassuring the butler.

“I’m fine, Al. One of Falcone’s thugs just broke in here, is all. I didn’t want to shoot him, but the man left me no choice. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Alfred’s shoulders slouched in relief as he gripped his chest. “Good lord, Bruce. I thought...I thought perhaps you had gotten hurt. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I’m okay. Trust me. He barely laid a finger on me.”

“Well, I still want to look over you just to be certain...but why would Falcone be after you? Is he going to send more people your way? What is going on, Bruce?”

“Falcone’s always had a grudge against me,” I lied. “But don’t worry. He won’t be sending anyone else. I’ve made sure of it.”

Alfred was obviously still a bit shaken, and his face was plastered with horror, but he eventually lowered his rifle, taking a deep breath.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “What a night. I’ll ring the GCPD. Let them know we’ve got a body here. Meanwhile, Bruce, I must insist that you come with me. After what’s happened here, I’m not sure I could sleep without knowing you were close-by. Who knows when another madman could show up?”

I stepped closer to Alfred, my head racking with guilt as I put my “mask” back on, pretending like I had no idea what occurred tonight.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll stick with you if it makes you feel better.”

“It does,” he replied, giving me the best smile he could at the moment. “After all, madmen are everywhere in this city, and the last thing I need is for you to come in contact with more of them. They’re much closer than you think, Bruce.”

I stayed relaxed, returning Alfred’s smile as I delicately pulled the old man into a comforting hug and escorted him away from the morbid crime scene, not even bothering to look back at Mario.

“Oh believe me,” I told him. “I know.”


	14. To End an Empire

From Oswald’s POV

THE INFIRMARY

Skipping down the stairs that led to the infirmary, I decided to spend the rest of my free time checking up on Braxton before we got to work on assassinating Brannigan. With all the chaos going on at the moment, it had been nearly impossible to get a word in with the old man, and I had to admit, my life was seriously lacking in sarcasm right now.

Gently pushing open the infirmary’s doors, I found Braxton sitting on the edge of a simple bed with his hat in his hands, and it looked like Rosie was across from him. I guessed I wasn’t the only one missing Hugh. I eagerly wandered in.

“Look who finally showed up,” Braxton teased. “And here I thought we’d accidentally forgotten you back at the cellar.”

I rolled my eyes. “Missed you too, Hugh. I see you haven’t lost your charm.”

The other man chuckled. “Listen, mate, I’ve been stuck in this infirmary for a while now, doing fuck all. And you’re the closest thing I have to entertainment down here, so forgive me if I’m a bit antsy.”

Rosie joined in. “They’re just making sure you’re safe, Hugh.”

He sighed, giving Rosie a gentle look. “Of course I know that. And I appreciate it. Though, I didn’t choose this life to be safe. All I care about right now is wiping people like Wayne off the face of the Earth. Civilians in Gotham are getting shot up because of him -- and meanwhile, I’m trapped here. Powerless to help.”

I leaned against a nearby wall. “Hopefully, killing Brannigan will change that.”

Rosie turned to me. “Are you going on that mission, Oz?”

I nodded. “Yeah. What ‘bout you?”

“I would, but for the moment, I think it’s best if I stay around Richie. His emotions are conflicted enough, what with abandoning William and all. I don’t want him to have to worry about me too.”

I quirked a brow. “Wait, you’re sayin’ your brother actually misses William?”

Her face sank with empathy. “You take orders from someone for too long, it becomes the only life you know. Richie understands he’s much safer here than back ‘home,’ and he trusts me a hell of a lot more than our dad, but I think he’s just...not used to having William out of his life. Don’t underestimate him though. He’s still willing to do whatever’s necessary.”

I crossed my arms. “Well, I would’ve gotten my face blown off if Richie didn’t save my arse back there, so I trust him.”

Braxton agreed. “Only a fool would mess with someone his size. The boy’s a tower with feet. I’m glad he’s on our side. Though, I can’t say I’m exactly familiar with the people on ‘our side’ either.”

Rosie looked at me. “That’s true. What about you, Oz? Have you had a chance to talk with this...‘Insurrection?’ I heard that Vicki girl was quite a fan of yours. Y’know, the one who tried to shoot me.”

I shrugged. “Hey, she apologized. But yeah, Vicki told me quite a bit. Apparently, their group originally started in Gotham. They only spread to England once they learned about Bruce’s connections with Brannigan and Kane. Also -- and this part’s a bit dodgy if you ask me -- but Vicki says there’s an ‘elite group’ within the Insurrection. They’re personally picked by the leader and given more advanced tasks. Think of them as...secret agents.”

Braxton raised a brow in suspicion. “This group have a name? Who even is their leader?”

“Someone by the name of Lady Arkham,” I answered. “but no one’s ever met her face-to-face. Not that we’re aware of, anyways. The elite group is called the Children of Arkham, quite fittingly. There’s only a few of them from what I gather.”

Rosie looked unsure. “I don’t know about this, Oz. A secret organization? A leader that no one’s ever seen? And the name clearly states they’ve got some involvement with that insane asylum in Gotham. People only keep secrets when they think the information will cause trouble. Do you really think we can trust these people?”

To be honest, I wasn’t certain. “Well, Aiden’s been upfront with us so far, and Vicki’s intentions seem well enough, but it’s too early to judge the rest. I suppose I’ll see at this meeting we’re about to have. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?”

Rosie smiled. “Sounds good. But...be careful, okay? Luring Bruce Wayne to London...we may as well be signing our own death warrants. And I know you’ve never been one to shy away from danger.”

I gestured to Hugh. “Wonder where I got it from?” He shot a sarcastic grimace my way. I snickered, taking my leave. “Keep an eye on the kids while I’m away, will you, Rosie?”

She laughed, waving a casual goodbye as I walked out the door and headed to the meeting. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE MEETING ROOM

Approaching the large, round, wooden table in the center of the room, I joined the rest of the organization’s members as we all waited for the discussion to begin, everyone eager to get started as they glanced curiously in my direction, trying to get a good look at the newcomer. 

Scanning through the small crowd, I noticed that the man from before was also here. The man that Aiden and I saw in the corridor. What was his name...? Erik? From what I recall, he wasn’t a man of many words.

Erik was a rather grumpy, rough looking man. His face was stuck in this constant glare, and his beard somehow only enhanced his frown. Travelling across his face was quite a prominent scar, and underneath his messy, dark bangs I spotted a pair of smoke-grey eyes. Not a moment later though, and those eyes were flicking towards me. I quickly averted my gaze, wanting to avoid a conversation with him as I pretended to ignore his presence. 

At first, I thought Erik was just quiet around me because I was a stranger, but judging by how he was sulking in the shadows like some sort of crow, I guessed he wasn’t talkative around anyone. His behavior reminded me a little of Bruce.

Moving on to the other members, I noticed Vicki on the opposite side of the table, quietly waiting for the meeting to begin with a clipboard in her hand and a pen in the other. The two of us made eye contact, and she sent a friendly wave at me along with a warm smile, suddenly erasing the unease I felt from Erik. I couldn’t deny that I was still a little skeptical about this “Insurrection,” and whoever Lady Arkham was, but so far, Vicki seemed straightforward enough. I only hoped she wouldn’t prove me wrong.

“All right guys,” turning towards the source of the voice, we all saw Aiden speeding up to the table as he rested his hands on its surface. “It’s finally time. We’ve had next to no luck trying to kill Wayne while he’s still in Gotham, what with the amount of security he has there, so instead of trying to infiltrate his little kingdom, we are officially going to lure Bruce Wayne to London...and end him for good.”

Aiden laid out a number of photographs on the table. “Before we can target Wayne however, there’s a list of his allies that we need to take down first. Albert Brannigan, specifically.”

He picked up one of the photos, displaying it to the whole room. “While useless in a fight, Brannigan is still a walking bank for his gang, The Blackridge Gang, and vital to their leader, Lucan Blackridge. We get rid of Brannigan, and Wayne will no longer be able to fund them. Not for a while anyways. With luck, the lack of money will weaken the Blackridges and allow Kane to deal with them more efficiently, but the chances of him wiping them out completely are low. On the bright side though, it’ll take some heat off our backs.”

Aiden placed the photo down. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid killing Brannigan alone won’t be enough to convince Wayne to come to London. That’s why...” he reached into his pocket, revealing an eagle feather dipped in black ink, “we’re gonna frame Kane for the murder. Hopefully, leaving William’s calling card at the scene will trick Wayne into thinking the man’s discovered his ulterior motives, and will cause him to personally...‘handle’ Kane. You guys with me so far?”

No one said a word. “Good. Now, the plan for Brannigan’s assassination. Tomorrow evening, Brannigan will be hosting a party at his house -- s’cuse me, his mansion -- in order to mingle with new, possible allies. What he doesn’t know...is that he’s getting a few extra guests.”

Aiden showed us a pair of invitations.

“Oz and Vicki, the two of you will be attending the party disguised as guests.”

Vicki appeared hesitant. “But Aiden, I can’t fight. What if something happens?”

He gestured to me. “That’s why Oz is going with you. I hate to put you in danger like this, but tomorrow will be the closest we’ve ever gotten to the Blackridges. I need you there so you can examine everything. Learn as much about them as you can, and report back to us with your discoveries. Can you do that, Vicki? Let Oz worry about the violence.”

Exchanging glances with me, I could tell that Vicki was still unsure about all this, but she agreed nonetheless. “...Yes, I can handle that.”

Aiden smiled. “Thank you, Vicki. And don’t worry, Oz. If shit goes down, you won’t be dealing with all the fighting by yourself. Erik and a few others will also be at the party, ready to snipe anyone at a moment’s notice. They just won’t be going as guests like you. All I need you to do is get Brannigan’s attention, and bring him to a secluded area. Preferably the courtyard, seeing as how it’ll be both dark and empty out there. You should have no problems planting the feather on him.”

I nodded in understanding. ‘All right. Sounds simple enough...but why me?”

He gave me a smirk. “Because you’re the charming one. You proved that to me back when we escaped Kane.”

I didn’t return the smirk, and I could feel my face becoming warmer than usual. “Right, of course. ...How could I forget.”

Aiden restrained a quiet chuckle. “Anyways, do you have an alias yet?”

“Yeah. I already discussed it with Vicki. I decided to go with ‘Penguin.”

All the other members gave me weird looks at the response, but Aiden didn’t seem phased by it in the slightest. 

“Somehow I knew you’d pick that. Very well, Penguin. I guess it’d be handy if you knew everyone else’s names.” Aiden pointed to himself. “I’m Tangles. Not my choice, but people started calling me that and it just stuck. Erik is Brother -- I’ll let him explain that to you -- and Vicki is...well, we just call her Vicki, actually. She doesn’t really go on these types of missions a lot, you see.”

I crossed my arms. “Works for me.”

“Great. So, everyone’s clear on the plan then? Wonderful. Get some training done, even throw in some sleep in there if you can, and prepare yourselves. Bruce Wayne isn’t going to go down without a fight, and if we succeed, he’ll do everything he can to drag us into hell with him.”

Aiden let out a regretful sigh. “I won’t lie. Sacrifices will be made along the way, and I can’t even guarantee we’ll all survive, but just remember, this is for the good of Gotham. With luck, everyone in this room will be able to return home someday, and the shadow of Wayne Tower will no longer loom over that dreadful city. The Prince of Gotham has been in control for long enough. It’s time we showed everyone who he truly is.”


	15. Luring the Lion

From Oswald’s POV

THE NEXT EVENING

Sitting quietly in the back of the car, I kept my gaze on the outside view as Erik drove us to Brannigan’s mansion, my heart pumping faster with anxiety the closer we got. This was the first time I’d ever done a mission like this, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure how well I’d do. Assassinating a gangster in his own home, and then framing another gangster for the crime...it was all a little out of my league. I was a boxer, for god’s sake. Not some professionally trained agent. I just prayed I didn’t fail my first job.

“Brother,” Aiden’s voice came through a walkie-talkie, breaking me out of my thoughts, “what’s your position? Are you almost at the mansion?”

Erik’s response was about as brief as you’d expect. “Nearly there.”

“Good. Vicki and I are almost there as well. I’ll let you know once we arrive.”

Erik didn’t let him go just yet. “Remind me again why these two aren’t travelling together?”

“Because it’ll draw less attention. The harder it is for everyone to connect Penguin and Vicki, the easier it’ll make our job. Remember, the whole point of this mission is to make Bruce think William is responsible for it all. Just make sure you’re ready if either Penguin or Vicki ever need help.”

Erik glanced over at his gun. “Got it.”

“Great. Keep them safe, okay? You’re as important to this mission as they are. If either of them dies, it’s possible they might learn about our entire organization. But we can talk more about this later. I’m pulling up to the mansion right now. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good luck, Tangles.”

“You too, Brother.”

Putting the walkie-talkie down, Erik continued cruising through the city’s streets as rain splattered on the windshield from the night sky and other cars bolted past us, causing even more water to spray along the sides of the vehicle. 

Erik appeared much less tense here than compared to when he was at the meeting, and the longer I observed him, the more he actually seemed to enjoy the solitude. It made me think of Bruce. That boy was always a lone wolf as a kid, and I had no doubts he was probably the same today. From what I remembered, the less people there were around, the more open Bruce would be with me. 

Whether it was because he had something to hide, or because he was just afraid of judgement...I supposed I’d never find out now. It only made me wonder what Erik’s reason was.

Though, as much as I wanted to leave him in peace, there was one thing that just wouldn’t stop bothering me, and I felt compelled to ask. I shyly glanced at the man.

“...Err--hey, Erik,” I called out, a tad hesitant at first. He didn’t move a muscle, but I could tell he was listening. “Mind if I ask -- how did you get the alias ‘Brother?”

He gave me a short answer. “Because I have one. And he’s why I’m here.”

“Oh? What’s his name?”

“Daniel.”

“And he ain’t here with you?”

Erik shook his head. “...No. Hill had him committed to Arkham.”

My voice lowered with empathy. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, mate. I know how you feel. My mum was also thrown in there -- by the same man, no less. Hamilton fuckin’ Hill.”

He scoffed. “Popular guy, isn’t he.” Erik sighed, running a hand along his beard. “I dunno about your mom, but my brother actually does have mental health issues. No one can deny that. Still though, he’s harmless to everyone except himself. Locking him up in that legalized torture chamber won’t help shit.”

I thought back to when I was a child. “Well, as far as I know, my mum was never mentally ill. She had struggles like everyone else, sure, but everything was fine ‘n dandy until one day, they suddenly declared her criminally insane. And then, just like that--” I snapped my fingers, “...she was gone for good.”

Erik was quiet for a moment. His head sank slightly.

“That happens a lot these days in Gotham, it seems.” He let out a breath. “Listen, Oz...I don’t know if it’s something you’d wanna see, but Vicki’s got an entire archive of Arkham Asylum records. Security footage, patient files...you name it. Chances are, she might have something on your mom...if you’re interested.”

I felt my heart skip a beat. “Wait...are you sayin’ she might actually be able to tell me where my mum...ended up?”

“Assuming no one erased the records, yes. Again though, some things are better left unknown.”

I took note of the suggestion. “I’ll definitely consider that. Thanks, Erik.”

He nodded without a word, the both of us falling into silence once again as the drive carried on along with the night, and the flamboyant lights of Brannigan’s mansion began to radiate in the distance. It was showtime.

~~~~~~~~~~

BRANNIGAN MANOR

Stepping out of the sleek, black car and into the driveway, I saw Erik speeding off before I could even say anything as other guests merrily strolled by, laughing and chattering among themselves. Muffled jazz music was waltzing through the walls of the manor, and the more I observed the colossal building, the more I was reminded of the Waynes.

Brannigan and Bruce may have been polar opposites in terms of personality, but their styles were definitely similar. Not too much flash, but just enough to let you know they were a big deal. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if Brannigan really used Bruce’s money for his gang like he claimed. A mansion like this must’ve cost a fortune.

Slipping out the ornamental invitation from inside my suit, I straightened my yellow tie and headed to the front door, putting on my best smile as I tried to blend in. So far, there was no sign of Vicki, and it appeared as if the party had been going on for a little while now. Most of the guests were still pretty aware and functioning properly, but intoxicated enough to disregard their surroundings. It was the perfect time for someone like me to sneak in unnoticed.

“Invitation, please.” The doorman requested in a bored tone, barely making eye contact with me. I handed him the fancy envelope. 

“Go on in, sir,” he said, glancing at the paper. “Have a pleasant evening.”

Walking through the intricate double-doors, I was immediately greeted by a magnificently spacious foyer with a glamorous chandelier dangling above me as servers paced around, offering glasses of champagne and wine to other people. There were multiple snack tables accompanied by small crowds of guests nibbling on its contents, and in a suspicious-looking group of men that resided atop the grand staircase, I spotted someone who could’ve possibly been Brannigan. Though, it was difficult to say at this distance.

Before I could investigate any further however, a female voice called to me from behind, stealing my attention.

“My, my, Oz,” she said in a complimentary tone. “You certainly clean up well.”

Whipping around, I found a surprisingly elegant Vicki standing mere inches away from me with a smirk plastered on her face as she took a quick sip of her wine, waiting for a response. Well, she definitely didn’t show up like how I was expecting.

Vicki’s hair had been tied up in a formal bun and, to go with the deep-blue gown she was adorning, a pair of classy but simple pearls hung from her ears as well as a matching necklace. She looked...beautiful.

“I clean up well?” I joked. “Clearly you’ve not seen yourself.”

Vicki chuckled. “Such a gentleman. Though, you do sound a bit, ah...crass...to be attending a party like this.”

I put on a fake, posher accent. “Is that so? And what about now?”

She snickered. “...We’ll have to work on that. For the moment though,” Vicki stepped closer and placed a hand on my shoulder, gesturing to the staircase with her eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the man up there, the one in that small group...that’s Brannigan. He’s the guy we’re here for.”

I casually followed her gaze, locating the same man from before. “That’s what I suspected,” I said, crossing my arms. “Y’know, he’s somewhat...larger...in person. Larger than I imagined, at least.”

Vicki playfully patted my stomach. “Don’t judge. You’re not exactly the epitome of good health either, drinking all that beer with Braxton.”

I shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? It’s been a rough week.”

The woman shook her head in a light-hearted manner before switching back to a more serious tone, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed Brannigan.

“So, listen,” Vicki started off, “as much as I’d like to see Brannigan dead, I think it’d be useful if we heard what he was talking about first. After all, the whole point Aiden sent me here was so that I could learn a thing or two about the Blackridges.”

I nodded. “I agree. And Brannigan could tell us something about Wayne we don’t already know.”

“Exactly. Only problem is...if we get too close, he might grow suspicious of us. What do you think we should do?”

I took a second to devise a plan, rubbing my chin in thought. “It’s probably best if you eavesdrop on him. It’ll be easier for you to hear the information firsthand rather than having me try to explain all of it. Besides, one of us has to make sure the courtyard is clear. If there are any witnesses skulkin’ about, I can...‘deal’ with them.”

Vicki took another sip. “And you told me there was nothing special about you. All right. That plan seems simple enough. I’ll go butter Brannigan up, see what I can learn from him. You just focus on clearing out the courtyard. Also, let Erik and Aiden know what we’re doing. If anything goes south, we’re gonna need their help.”

“Got it. Good luck. And stay safe.”

She eloquently sauntered off, raising her glass of wine as goodbye. “Where’s the thrill in that?”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Vicki’s POV

Snaking through the thick crowds, I planted myself at a reasonable distance from Brannigan and his crew as they carried on their conversation, all of them gleefully drunk and totally oblivious to my presence. 

I had to admit, Oz was right in a way. The photographs of Brannigan only showed so much of his true nature. In person, the man was even more sleazy. His plump, oily face was glowing with red from the alcohol, and atop his pig-like head was a collection of slicked-back, thinning grey hairs. And, to be honest, his companions didn’t appear much different. Why Wayne would trust someone like Brannigan with his money was beyond me.

But perhaps that was just the point. No one would ever suspect that someone as organized as Wayne would work with a bumbling dolt such as Albert. The two of them were nothing alike. Still, I had to be careful. Wayne obviously chose Brannigan for some reason. Maybe the man wasn’t as incompetent as he seemed. It would be foolish to underestimate him.

Inching closer, I pretended to occupy myself with listening to the jazz band as their audience danced around them in a jolly fashion, clapping along with the music’s rhythm and swaying in sync with the beat. 

Every once in a while, I’d spot Oz slipping in and out of sight as he made his way to the courtyard, subtly glancing behind him to make sure no one was on his tail. Despite his prominent temperament, I couldn’t deny that Oz certainly knew how to make himself scarce. One of the perks that came with serving Kane, I guessed.

Before I could think anymore however, my ears suddenly perked in interest when Brannigan’s chat abruptly took a shady turn, snatching my attention as I slightly leaned in, hoping to catch every word.

“He’s...nothing but a...but a little boy...” Brannigan slurred. “Just a...just a ch-child....trying to fill his daddy’s shoes.”

He chugged down a mouthful of wine, blurting out a drunken laugh. “They call him the prince of...of G-Gotham. Ha! Please...he does nothing but...but hide. All day long. In that...creepy cave of his. B-barking orders...and hiring other people to do...to do his dirty w-work....prince of Gotham, my arse. He can’t...he can’t even kill King on his own. Has to find a damn...assassin.”

Bruce hired an assassin to kill one of the Kings? Shit. I knew I came here hoping to learn something, but that wasn’t exactly the type of info I had been wishing for. I kept listening.

“He was audacious enough to...to kill Vivienne. Why not...why not go after her prick brother too?”

I froze. Wait a minute. Vivienne was...dead? I mean, the thought crossed my mind once or twice ever since she went missing, but I never actually thought someone would be able to take her down. That woman was indestructible. Always refused to break. 

Evidently though, not even she could stop Bruce. This was bad news. Very bad news. What was I going to tell Aiden? 

“...hey, you. What are you...what are you doing there?”

Looking off to the side, I suddenly realized that Brannigan had noticed me and was now wagging a meaty finger in my direction as he stumbled towards me, his brow furrowed in confusion. I quickly fled the scene and ran to the courtyard, unsure of what else to do whilst Brannigan followed clumsily.

“Hey!” He drunkenly shouted, turning some heads. “Get back...get back here...!”

Swiftly pushing my way across the tightly-packed mansion, I broke into a jog and pinched the sides of my gown in an attempt to give my legs some more room as Brannigan practically bulldozed through his guests, completely disregarding the frenzy he was causing around him.

Slamming the courtyard’s doors open, I hurriedly sprinted into the dark, open area and pressed my earpiece, alerting both Erik and Oz of what had transpired.

“Brother, Penguin,” I whispered in an urgent voice, “Brannigan’s after me. I’ve lured him into the courtyard. You know what to do.”

“I’m on it,” Erik replied. “Just be sure to give me a clear shot.”

Waiting anxiously in the middle of the garden, I watched Brannigan wobble through the double-doors as his eyes squinted in the blackness, only to be stopped in his tracks when a third person suddenly grabbed him from behind, and wrangled him to the ground. It was none other than Oz himself.

“...What the--!?” Brannigan exclaimed, interrupted by the hand that slapped over his mouth.

Once restrained in place, Oz threw a firm punch to the man’s head in order to stun him for a moment, afterwards signaling Erik to take the shot as he stepped away. 

Only, the shot never came.

“Brother!” Oz exclaimed into his earpiece. “What are you doing? We need you to finish him off!”

No response.

“Brother!” He repeated. Still, nothing. Goddammit, where was Erik?

Taking matters into his own hands, Oz groaned in frustration as he took out his own gun and aimed it at Brannigan’s face, earning a throaty guffaw from the nearly unconscious banker.

“...I should’ve known. Well...do what you like...” Albert taunted, laughing deliriously. “W-whatever it is you’re planning...it won’t go your way. I have the...the Waynes’ support. And...everyone knows...once you anger a Wayne...you’re dead...”

Oz glared at him. “Oh yeah? I’m still here.”

“...For now,” Brannigan corrected with a chuckle. “But you really think...you really think you can defeat the Waynes? Pfft. Fat chance. Just...just walk away now, lad. Put the gun down...and leave...and we’ll pretend like th-this never happened. Trust me...it’ll make both our lives easier.”

“I’m not looking for an easy life.”

Brannigan scoffed. “What kind of fool are you, boy? I’m...I’m offering you a chance to escape. Take it...! If Bruce Wayne comes to London...you’ll never know peace again.”

Oz placed his finger over the trigger and took out the eagle feather Aiden had given him, examining its thin structure as he cocked the gun. 

“Never knew it in the first place. Goodbye, Brannigan.”


	16. Just the Beginning

From Bruce’s POV

THE CAVE

“I really should be at home with my wife,” Falcone said, pouring himself a drink, “but I need answers.”

The gangster solemnly turned to me, his face heavy and exhausted with grief. 

“What happened to Mario, Bruce? ...How did my son die?”

I gazed at the supercomputer’s massive monitor, blankly staring at the screen’s wallpaper as I fiddled with the chair’s armrest and contemplated what to say next. It was still rather early in the morning, and I couldn’t deny that I was a little surprised when Falcone pulled up in my driveway, demanding to know the full story of his son’s death. Not that I blamed him. After all, I was the last one to see Mario. It only made sense that the gangster would show up sooner or later. I was just used to Falcone being a tad more...patient.

“Do you want the truth?” I asked. “It could worsen the situation even more.”

Carmine glared at me with the eyes of a hawk. “What are you hiding, nephew? Is there something about his death that you don’t want me to know? Well? Out with it!”

I returned his gaze with a firm look. “Easy, Falcone. I’ll tell you the truth if you wish -- I’m just saying it could strengthen the grief even further. I’m willing to bet it’s not what you’re expecting.”

He calmed down, his eyes drooping to his drink. “All right, then. Tell me everything. Every detail. I need to know what happened, and so does my wife. A man my age has seen a lot. I can handle it.”

I sighed as my chest tightened with anxiety, worried about how Falcone would react. 

“Okay,” I said, rising to my feet. The gangster cautiously examined my every move, watching closely as I slid my hands into my pockets. There was nothing inside except for some keys, but Carmine’s suspicion probably told him otherwise. I took a deep breath, looking him directly in the eye.

“...I did it.”

Falcone froze in place, his drink slipping just an inch from his hand as his grip loosened slightly at the confession. I could tell he was shocked, but his expression somehow remained stoic. I waited for a response.

“I...I see,” he practically whispered, turning away from me. Even though his voice was barely audible, I could still hear the venom bubbling underneath. 

“Listen, Bruce,” he continued, his tone heated with vehemence, “normally I would’ve already shot you down by now in your own goddamn cave, and lord knows how much I wish I could...but you’re family. Just as much as Mario was. Just as much as your father. Hell, Thomas was like a brother to me -- no, more than a brother. He gave so much to this city. ...I owe it to him to at least hear you out. So...” Falcone faced me again, his knuckles white due to how hard he was squeezing his drink, “what’ve you got to say...nephew?”

I crossed my arms, trying to balance out my breathing as I approached the other man.

“Just so you know,” I reiterated, “I didn’t murder your son in cold-blood. I shot him out of self-defense.”

“Self-defense?” Carmine repeated, unconvinced. “You’re sayin’ Mario was attacking you? Why would he go after someone on the same side?”

“I know he made it seem like he was with us,” I countered, “but it turns out -- Mario had ulterior motives from the start. All along, he wanted to get back at me for killing his friend, that Faenza boy. And De Luca as well.”

“De Luca? As in Claudio De Luca?”

I paused. “You don’t know? Ah. I suppose that makes sense. Well, you see, Mario originally planned to have me killed via assassination, and he sent Claudio to do the job. Though, as you’ve probably already guessed, he didn’t succeed. In the end, Claudio was the one to lose his life, and I assume that angered Mario even more. Most-likely, it’s what pushed him over the edge.”

Falcone took a second to process what I just told him. “Wait, let me get this straight. You killed Faenza, which then caused Mario to want revenge, and as a result, he sent De Luca to assassinate you. What happened then?”

I gave him a “you know the rest” face. 

“Well, I guess your son decided to take matters into his own hands. He came here the other night, barging into my bedroom and waving a gun around. I tried to talk him out of it, but Mario wouldn’t listen. Just kept on insisting that I had to die. And eventually...I was forced to...you know.”

The way Carmine glowered at me, it was obvious there were a thousand words tangling together in his mind as he tried to organize them, and yet...not a single one ever made it through his lips. Instead, he only placed his now empty glass down in silence, his brow wrinkled with concentration as he rested his palms on a nearby table. I steadily walked up to him, careful not to provoke him.

“...Uncle--”

Out of nowhere, I suddenly felt the pressure of his hand wrapping itself around my neck as he pinned me against a wall, knocking the breath out of me.

“You’ve got balls, kid,” he growled, “there’s no denying that. Not everyone would’ve told the truth...but that don’t mean you’re off the hook.”

I latched onto his sturdy arm, trying to pull it off. “And what was I supposed to do, exactly?” I wheezed out. “Let him shoot me?”

“Well, shooting him certainly didn’t solve anything, did it?”

I gritted my teeth, struggling for oxygen. “You think I wanted to kill Mario? You weren’t there, Falcone. I tried to tell him to leave. He wouldn’t have any of it. I am not your enemy, but I do what I must to survive.”

The gangster tightened his grasp, leaning in closer. “...So do I.”

I grimaced. “Fine. If you think I’m such a danger to this city, then finish what Mario started. Put an end to the Waynes right here, right now. Kill the ever notorious prince of Gotham.”

Falcone’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as they bore into me, and my lungs were burning with desperation now as the edges of my vision began to darken.

“Go on,” I taunted. “Do it. And leave one of your white roses with me while you’re at it. It’ll be a red one by the time Alfred finds me.”

Staying in place for what felt like an eternity, Falcone groaned in defeat before finally releasing his hold and throwing me to the floor, his imposing shadow towering over my figure.

“Goddamn you, Bruce,” he cursed, his voice low with guilt. “You’re definitely your father’s son. Thomas had the same fire in him. Just never thought I’d see it again.” 

Falcone skulked over to his empty glass, refilling it with another round. “I...I can’t kill you. But I can’t forgive you either.”

I regained my breath, bringing myself up to my feet as I recovered from what just happened.

“And what does that mean?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I won’t interfere with your plans to kill Ham, but for the moment, I’m too preoccupied with mourning to help. Right now, I think it’s best if I stay with my wife, and give her whatever comfort she needs. I might rejoin you one day when all this clears up, but in the meantime...” Falcone began making his way to the cave’s entrance, carrying his drink with him, “I wish you the best of luck, Bruce. These are dark days in Gotham. I only hope they stay long enough for you to get the the job done.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “It’ll never be done. Not so long as I’m alive.”

Having a seat at the computer, the distant sound of Falcone’s disappearing footsteps echoed throughout the cave as I stayed behind, thinking of where to go from here. I was confident I could still take Hill down, but without Falcone’s support, it was going to be significantly harder. 

Did I do the right thing? I asked myself. Should I have told him the truth?

In a world full of so many lies and so much deceit, honesty sometimes felt like one of the few luxuries that couldn’t be bought. It was right up there next to trust, yet another precious thing I lost today. 

Burying my head in my hands, I thought back on what Falcone said. “You’re definitely your father’s son.”

If that was the case, then why did I always feel like this business was pulling me in ten different directions? I had no doubts that my father struggled from time to time, and that he dealt with his own hardships, but he always seemed to handle it so much more...diligently. Like no matter how hard the world fought against him, he could still remind it who was sitting on the throne. 

I may have been the prince of Gotham, but my father was a king. A man like him would’ve never ended up in my position. I could almost feel him glaring down at me in disappointment.

Rescuing me from my self-degrading thoughts, the computer suddenly began to ring with a call from Brannigan that bounced off the cave’s walls, radiating a bright light from the gigantic monitor.

Straightening my position and adjusting my suit, I took a second to recompose myself before promptly answering the call...only to come face-to-face with someone who wasn’t Brannigan.

“Mister Wayne.” The man greeted in a thick English accent. I furrowed my brow in suspicion.

“Who are you?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

“My name is James,” he replied. “I’m one of Brannigan’s accomplices, sir.”

“...and where is he?”

He hesitated. “That’s the thing. He’s, err -- he’s...dead.”

Great. As if I needed more surprises today.

“What do you mean he’s dead? When did this happen?”

“Just last night, actually. It was during a party he was hosting. Murdered -- in his own manor, no less.”

I combed a hand through my hair out of stress, letting out a breath. “Wonderful.”

“I’m afraid that’s not it, sir.”

“Oh, really? And what else is there?”

James held up an eagle feather painted with black ink, bringing it close to the camera. “We found this on Brannigan’s body.”

For a moment, I thought my heart had actually come to a stop, and I could feel the color rapidly draining from my face. An eagle feather dipped in ink...if I wasn’t mistaken, that was William’s calling card. And if he killed Brannigan...shit. This was a message. He knew I was helping the Blackridges. He knew I was a traitor, and he was out for blood.

Noticing the troubled look on my face, James instantly tried to reassure me.

“B-but we’re not completely in the dark!” He quickly said. “Even though the other two culprits got away, we managed to capture one of the people responsible for the murder. A sniper. Caught him on the rooftops. Unfortunately though, we haven’t been able to get a single word out of him. Stubborn as a mule, that one.”

I waved a casual hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”

James was puzzled. “But, sir, he’s in London.”

“I know.”

He easily caught on, nodding in understanding. “...Ah, I see. And when do you plan on arriving, Mister Wayne?”

Slipping my keys out of my pocket, I pressed the button and activated the platform supporting my car as the red beauty elevated into view, rotating towards the long tunnel paved in front of it. It was always a sight for sore eyes, and right now, considering I wanted nothing more than to get out of Gotham, the vehicle was practically calling my name. I tugged lightly on my tie, hovering a finger over the “end call” button. I glanced up at James.

“Tomorrow.”


	17. Reunited

From Oswald’s POV

INSURRECTION HQ - THE NEXT DAY

“So,” Aiden scratched his head in thought, “Erik never returned. Great. I bet the Blackridges captured him during the mission. We’ll have to find him. Soon.”

I chuckled, leaning against a wall. “...Just killed a man and he already wants to go back.”

Aiden grinned. “You just killed a man. I’m only the guy with the plans. Besides, if we want to find Erik -- alive -- we’ll have to search the manor while the clues are still fresh.”

“Fair point,” I agreed. “All I’m sayin’ is that the place is probably crawling with Blackridges now, considering their top supporter was just butchered. I doubt it’s gonna be as easy as sneakin’ in and investigating the area.”

The other man sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re most-likely right. And usually, I wouldn’t risk revisiting the manor at such an early time, but trust me when I say we need Erik. It’d be a waste to leave him there.”

I nodded. “I hear you. So, what d’you need me to do?”

Aiden paused. “Well, you don’t have to go if you don’t want. I know the mission wasn’t exactly smooth. If you need some time to rest, that’s fine. I can get someone else to go.”

I insisted. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Out of all the people here, Vicki and I are the only ones who’ve actually been to Brannigan Manor. If we’re gonna find Erik, we need someone who’s familiar with the layout already.”

He was clearly still a bit unsure of sending me there, but complied regardless. “Good point. All right. All I need you to do is look for any clues that could tell us where they might’ve taken Erik. Chances are they’re interrogating him, so keep an eye out for any basements or cellars. Oh also, remember that this isn’t a life or death mission. For now, we just need to locate Erik, and figure out how to get him back. I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Got it?”

I raised my brows in a joking manner. “Well, when you put it that way...you might have the wrong man, mate.”

We both snickered for a moment before Aiden playfully punched me in the arm, smirking at me.

“I mean it, Oz. I don’t wanna see you get hurt. Especially not when one of our guys are missing.”

I switched to a more sincere tone, looking at Aiden with reassurance. “I’ll be careful. Promise. I don’t wanna end up in the infirmary anyways. Braxton will just sass me all day long.”

Aiden laughed. “Wonderful. Thank you for doing this, Oz. In the meantime, I’ll go talk to Vicki and see if she learned any useful information. If you need to contact me, just use your earpiece like before. And you should get going as soon as possible. The less time we waste, the better.”

I headed for the exit, getting my gear ready as I popped the device in my ear and prepared my gun. “I’m on it. I’ll be in touch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Bruce’s POV

LONDON

“Sorry to drag you with me on such short notice,” I apologized to Alfred as we were driven to our suite, “but I have some urgent business I need to attend to here, and I completely forgot to tell you with everything that’s been going on.”

Alfred chuckled, gesturing out the car’s window. “Please, sir. No need to be sorry. In fact, I couldn’t be happier to get out of that dreadful city. It’s still home, mind you, but a brief break from all that crime is appreciated. Besides, I think you could use a vacation as well.”

I smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Though...we are in London, so the crime might not exactly be gone.”

“A vacation and a way to prevent homesickness. This is truly refreshing.”

Alfred turned to me, curiosity plastered on his face. “Mind if I ask, sir -- what business exactly do you have in England? After all, this isn’t really a...‘local’ area. I’m surprised they would send you this far.”

I quickly thought of a cover. “...Just some business deals to discuss concerning Wayne Enterprises,” I settled with. “The company thought it’d be best to expand internationally.”

He nodded in approval. “Ah, I see. Well, I have confidence that everything will turn out great. I know things can get hectic for you, Bruce -- especially as CEO -- but believe me when I say you’re doing a marvelous job. I don’t think the company’s ever been more successful. Just...try not to burn yourself out, yes? For an old man’s sake? I know Regina would hunt me down if I ever allowed anything to happen to you.”

I laughed. “I promise, I won’t go too far beyond my limits. Thanks, Al.”

Slowing down to a halt, I saw the hotel we’d be staying at steadily coming into view as we pulled up into its grand, spacious driveway, the muffled sound of water fountains seeping in through the windows. 

Through the tall, ornamental glass doors, I could see a sumptuous, marble lobby decorated with expensive furniture and elegant lighting as other guests roamed about, their bellhops frantically trying to keep up with them whilst they hauled their luggage around. This might’ve sounded strange coming from a billionaire, but it was all a bit too flashy for my liking. 

Sure, it was absolutely gorgeous -- I mean, the hotel’s facade practically screamed, “no poor people allowed” -- and even I was impressed with the interior design...but the idea of not having a dark, secret cave to hide in made me uneasy. I had no sanctuary here. No place to just be...me. I was going to have to keep my mask on full-time while in London.

“You go on ahead, Al,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later. There’s something I need to do first before checking in.”

The butler paused. “Are you sure, Bruce? I can come along, if you like.”

“No, no,” I persisted. “It’s all right. I don’t want to make you wait for me. I won’t be long, but I’d rather do this now than later. You can take your stuff and go on in. I’ll meet you at our suite after I’m finished.”

Alfred still seemed uncertain. “...Very well, sir. If that’s what you want. I’ll go ahead and warm up the room before you arrive. Be careful out there, Bruce.”

“You too, Alfred.”

Shutting the door behind him, the butler headed to the front doors and was almost immediately bombarded by a group of bellhops, all of them practically fighting over who would help Alfred with his bags. Meanwhile, I remained in the car, making sure he was well out of ear’s reach before bringing my attention to the driver.

“He doesn’t know about your ‘other’ business, eh?” The driver asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. I shook my head.

“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

“Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks, James. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to Brannigan Manor as fast as possible. The sooner we get to the bottom of this mess, the better.”

“Right away, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BRANNIGAN MANOR

Stepping out of the car, I was greeted with a mansion even more extravagant than the hotel, causing me to instantly grow suspicious of Brannigan’s spending habits. I scoffed to myself. No wonder the Blackridges were struggling to topple the Kanes -- it was because half of their funding was going towards Albert’s personal needs instead of the gang itself. Well, whatever. It didn’t matter now. That man was dead and gone. Not like he helped much anyways.

Walking up next to me, I saw James eagerly sticking to my side, his eyes flicking back and forth from me to the manor as he waited to go in. I examined him for a moment.

In person, James was actually taller than I expected. He appeared kind of short on camera, but in reality, he stood at almost the same height as I did. Apart from that though, the rest of him was pretty much how I pictured. 

James was wearing the same flat cap he did during our talk over the phone, and his face didn’t look a day over twenty. His big, blue eyes still had that youthful naivety in them, and on top of that, there was only a thin layer of scruff lining his jaw. How long did it take for him to grow that? I just hoped he knew what he was getting himself into, running with the underworld at such an early age.

“I mentioned we captured one of Brannigan’s killers,” James said, “would you like to speak with him now?”

I made my way to the manor’s front porch as James closely followed me, waiting for an answer.

“Not yet. First, I’d like to investigate the crime scene. Where did you say he was murdered?”

“The courtyard, sir.”

“Then let’s go there and see what we can find.”

Pacing through the manor’s eerily empty foyer, I glanced at our surroundings and saw many of the party decorations that were left behind. There were snack bars with unattended trays of champagne glasses, couches and chairs that still had wrinkled surfaces from the guests that once occupied them, and a grand piano whose music notes were flipped halfway through the song. I assumed the murder must’ve scared everyone off in the middle of the party.

“Were you here when the murder occurred?” I asked. James gave me a firm nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you happen to catch a glimpse of the other two killers?”

He glanced upwards in thought. “Well...I couldn’t see them up-close, but I remember a man and a woman. They were acting...strangely throughout the whole party. The man was a tad shorter than you. Had brown hair, a light beard and was dressed in a tuxedo with a yellow tie. As for the woman, she also had brown hair, and she was wearing a dark-blue gown along with some pearl accessories. That’s all I can tell you though. I’m sorry it’s not incredibly specific.”

I continued walking. “Better than nothing.”

“Hey, James,” I said after a minute of silence, getting the boy’s attention. “I have to admit, I’m curious how someone so young is already working with gangsters. At least, you don’t look very old to me.”

He made an expression that told me he had been expecting this question. “Yes, I’m only twenty-one. Though, I’ve actually been doing this for a few years now. Ever since I was seventeen. You see, my dad was...killed during a home invasion back then. And as a result, I was sent to live with my uncle. Albert Brannigan. He’s the one who pulled me into this business.”

My eyes widened with surprise. “Brannigan was your uncle? Hmm, guess I’m not the only one who’s a nephew for a crime-boss. And what about your mom?”

James’ gaze sank slightly. “Passed away when I was a kid.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. I know how you feel. Well, enough about that. Let’s just get on with this investigation, shall we--”

Before we could even take another step, I heard a suspicious noise suddenly come from behind the courtyard’s doors that sounded like someone was sneaking through a metal gate. I instantly held a protective arm in front of James, taking out my gun.

“Did you hear that?” James blurted out.

“I sure did,” I replied. “...Wait here. I’m gonna go see what it is.”

“Are you sure? What if it’s another one of Kane’s men?”

I picked up my pace, walking towards the courtyard. “Then they’re gonna regret ever running into me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Oswald’s POV

BRANNIGAN MANOR

“See anything yet?” Aiden whispered through the earpiece, even though he wasn’t with me. I observed the courtyard, using the shadows as cover.

“Sadly, no. On the bright side though, the manor isn’t nearly as packed as we thought. I mean, there are a few people here -- all of whom I assume are Blackridges -- but it’s still kind of...empty.”

“Empty?” Aiden repeated in a cautious tone. “That’s...surprising. Hmm. I don’t like this, Oz. It could be an ambush. Maybe they were expecting us to come back all along. Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have sent you alone.”

I crept my way behind some neatly-trimmed bushes, checking both sides to make sure the coast was clear. 

“Relax, mate. I’m not too far from the manor’s exit. If anyone catches me, I’ll bolt. But I ain’t runnin’ until I’m sure there’s something to run from. On a side note, have you learned anythin’ from Vicki?”

Aiden let out a worried sigh. “Well apparently, Wayne’s hired an assassin to chase after me. I dunno how close or far away they are, or if the contract’s even still on, but we gotta keep an eye out.”

“An assassin?” I silently groaned. “Brilliant. Was there anything else Vicki found out?”

“No. Or at least, that’s all she told me. If I’m being honest though, I can’t help but feel like she’s hiding something. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but I’ve known Vicki long enough to know when something’s wrong. I’m just worried that she found some...unpleasant...information and doesn’t want me to hear it.”

“She’ll tell you when she thinks the time is right.” I reassured. 

“You don’t think it could be about...Vivienne, do you? God, I hope she’s okay. None of us have heard from her in a long time...” Aiden’s voice trailed off, his tone suddenly changing back to normal once he realized he was rambling. “Anyways, any updates on the investigation?”

I noticed an ominous red liquid staining the ground as I crouched to examine it, lightly feeling its texture. It looked like dried blood.

“I just found some blood trails,” I informed him. “If this is Erik’s, then he was beaten before they took him away.”

“Shit,” Aiden cursed. “Do they lead anywhere?”

“Lemme see...” Getting back up to my feet, I hurriedly followed the small splatters of blood through the courtyard and into an alleyway, eventually finding myself standing above what appeared to be a basement door. I knelt down and tried the handle. Locked. Of course it bloody was.

“I found a basement,” I said. “The trail leads into it. Erik must be in there. It’s locked though.”

Aiden thought for a second. “A basement? If they’re keeping him down there, that means he’s most-likely under heavy guard. You can’t go in alone. Especially not in broad daylight. You’ll get slaughtered.”

I shrugged. “So, what d’you think I should do then?”

I heard a pair of soft footsteps sneak up behind me.

“Don’t move, for starters.”

Jumping at the unfamiliar voice, I immediately reached for my gun and whipped around in confusion, only to find another gun aiming right back at me. The man holding it didn’t look like a simple Blackridge member, and the way his eyes pierced into mine told me he was probably an authority of some kind. Just what I needed.

“...brown hair, a light beard...” he murmured to himself in thought, “a generic description, but you fit it.” 

“What are you doing here?” He questioned in a strict tone, carefully approaching me. “Who are you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but stopped mid-sentence when I suddenly began to recognize the person in front of me.

Taking a better look at the man, my entire body turned into ice as my heart came to a screeching halt and I lowered my gun out of shock, my brain at a complete loss for words. The jet-black hair, those fierce blue eyes, the suit and tie...

I nearly choked. Could it be? Was that...who I thought it was?

I took a leap of faith, and called out his name.

“...B-Bruce...?”

He obviously wasn’t phased by the situation as much as I was. I supposed he didn’t recognize me. Or maybe I just had the wrong man.

“Yes, that’s me,” Bruce said, confirming my suspicions, “but I asked who you are.”

I smiled uncontrollably. “...Oswald!” I exclaimed, my eyes glossy with a light sheen of happy tears. “It’s me...Oswald Cobblepot. Your best friend...r-remember?”

For a while, Bruce simply stared at me out of bewilderment, clearly in disbelief and taken aback by the crazy scenario. I couldn’t tell if he was still planning to shoot me, or if he was actually considering the bizarre statement I just told him. But the longer he observed me, the more the predatory expression on his face softened into reminiscence, and the more I could see the old Bruce I used to know coming out. 

He slowly put his gun away, his gaze nailed onto me.

“...Oz?” Bruce breathed, unable to even speak above a whisper. “...It’s--it’s you.”

He closed the distance between us, throwing all hesitation out the window and completely forgetting the original reason he came here. There were about a million different emotions being displayed on his face right now, and despite Aiden shouting in my ear for me to respond, I only returned the action. Bruce smiled warmly.

“...It’s really you.”


	18. Ignorance is Bliss

From Bruce’s POV

BRANNIGAN MANOR

I was paralyzed on the spot, unsure of what to think or how to react. After nearly twenty years of living in a world filled to the brim with crime, here I was, face-to-face with my only childhood friend as if we were ten years old again. 

How...how was this even possible? And what on Earth was Oz doing here? He wasn’t here on William’s behalf, that much I knew. After all, the crime-boss said Oz escaped from him. No...Oz must’ve been sent here by someone else. But by who? And why? What interest did he have in Brannigan’s murder? Was he trying to find our prisoner? It just didn’t make sense.

Wait a minute. I remembered William mentioning that Oz broke out with the help of Aiden King. If the two of them were working together, that meant Oz knew where the Insurrection’s headquarters was located. And more importantly, that meant he was probably one of them by now. If they sent him to search Brannigan’s manor right after he was killed...

A pang of realization hit me.

Perhaps William was never the one responsible for the murder. Did the Insurrection frame him for the killing? I mean, all the clues connected, but I still didn’t understand the purpose. What was going on?

Shoving all these thoughts away for the moment, I took a deep breath and brought my main focus to the man in front of me. There would be plenty of time to answer all those questions later. Right now, all I cared about was...well, Oz.

Looking him over, I noticed that Oz had certainly changed over the past couple decades -- so much that I barely recognized him. He appeared much rougher than I remembered, almost like he had just gotten out of a fight, and I could also see hints of tattoos sticking out from under the sleeves of his long, black coat. I guessed these past nineteen years hadn’t been any friendlier to Oz than they had been to me. I wondered if I looked any different to him. I tried to think of something to say to break the silence, my words getting caught in my throat.

“It’s--” I stuttered, still in shock, “--it’s...really you.”

Oz smiled widely, his mischievous eyes twinkling with delight. “Out of all people to run into today...and I meet Bruce Wayne. The prince of Gotham...fuckin’ unbelievable. Tell me...how’s his Majesty been doin’?”

I chuckled lightly, putting my gun away. “I see my nickname has no boundaries. Though, I’d prefer if you just stuck to Bruce. After all, it’s not like this is our first time meeting.”

The other man gazed at me in a nostalgic manner. “It sure isn’t. God...it’s been so long,” Oz stepped closer. “Listen. I don’t say this often, but...I missed you, Bruce. I really did. It’s great to see you again.”

I beamed at him. “I missed you too, Oz, but what are you doing here? You’re not looking for the prisoner, are you?”

Oz put his hands on his hips, softly kicking the ground. “Straight to business, eh? All right then. As a matter of fact, I am looking for him.”

“Why though?” I questioned. He paused and glanced off to the side, clearly thinking of what to say. 

“Y’know what--” I continued before he could respond, “don’t worry about it. I’ll let him go.”

Oz quirked a brow. “What? You will?”

I nodded. “I already have all the answers I need now that I’ve seen you here. And besides, it’s not like we’re getting any information out of the prisoner. Your friend’s pretty damn resilient from what I hear. There’s no point in keeping him, so I’ll let him go.”

He was obviously taken aback by the gesture, but posed no opposition to it.

“Oh, okay -- well, thanks, Bruce. I mean it.”

I held a hand up. “Under one condition.” Oz fell silent. I lowered my voice, making sure no one could hear us. 

“Meet me here again at midnight,” I said. “Same manor, same alleyway, same spot. There are a lot of things we need to discuss, and I need to make sure we’re on the same page. Can you manage that?”

Oz seemed confused. “Yeah, of course, but why can’t we just talk now?”

“Because other people are expecting to see me,” I explained, “and if I take too long, they’ll grow suspicious. Trust me. It’s best if we speak in private. Away from unwanted ears. It’ll be safer for the both of us.”

He was silent in response, leading me to my next question.

“...You do trust me, don’t you, Oz?” I asked, studying the concern in his face. 

Oz shrugged, bringing his line of sight to the ground. “To be honest, Bruce, I don’t have an answer for you yet. I want to trust you -- I really do -- but I’m just sayin’...I’ve heard some dodgy stuff ‘bout you, mate. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t worry me a bit.”

I sighed in disappointment. “Ah, I see. Well, I’m not surprised. It’s true, I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, things that I wish I could’ve avoided...but you should know: I've only done what I had to.” 

I placed a hand on Oz’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Listen. All I ask, is that you give me a chance. Rather than listening to wild stories from other people, view me with your own judgement. If you don’t like what you see, I’ll let you walk away. So...what d’you say? Will you meet me here again? Or is this where we go our separate ways?”

Oz took a moment to consider the offer, his gaze occasionally flicking downwards at the basement door as his brow furrowed in thought. I could tell he was still hesitant to cooperate with me -- only god knew what the Insurrection had been saying about the Waynes -- and he almost looked...ashamed...like he felt he’d be betraying someone just by being around me. I patiently waited for a decision.

After a while of thinking, Oz finally brought his focus back to me and firmly nodded in agreement, taking a few steps forward.

“...All right,” he said, reaching a hand out. “For old time’s sake, I’m putting my trust in you. In exchange for the prisoner, I’ll meet you here at midnight, and we can talk about whatever’s on your mind. Sound good?”

I smiled, eagerly shaking his hand. “Perfect. I’ll go distract the guards and give your friend a chance to break free, just so it doesn’t look too intentional. Thanks again for trusting me, Oz. Believe me when I say you want me on your side. You won’t regret this.”

~~~~~~~~~~

From Oswald’s POV

INSURRECTION HQ

Heading back to headquarters, I supported most of Erik’s weight as he leaned against my body and hobbled along, grunting in pain with every step. It looked like he took quite a beating from the Blackridges, and despite Bruce’s anonymous assistance, it was clear Erik still had a tough time getting out. Well, on the bright side, I supposed Braxton would have some company in the infirmary now. I only hoped it wouldn’t be for long.

“You holdin’ up all right, Erik?” I checked, earning a silent nod from the man. He was certainly optimistic about his health. Though, I would’ve felt better hearing it from an actual doctor.

Knowing Erik and his almost-mute nature, I decided that a conversation was pointless and kept it quiet for the rest of the way, practically dragging the sniper as I hauled him to HQ’s entrance. What we saw once I pushed the doors open however, was nothing close to what we were expecting.

Inside, I spotted Aiden sitting on the floor with an ice pack pressed against his nose, along with a crumpled-up, blood-stained tissue in his other hand. There were multiple fresh bruises scattered across his face, and his head hung low due to lack of energy as Rosie watched over him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I blurted out, drawing their attention, “you two okay?” Rosie turned to me with a guilt-ridden expression.

“Oz!” She exclaimed, surprised at my arrival. “You’re back, and you’ve got Erik. That’s great, but I’m afraid we have another problem to deal with.”

I gestured to Aiden. “Yeah, I noticed. What’d I miss?”

“It’s Richie,” she said frantically. “He snapped earlier for some reason, and suddenly became aggressive. It was chaos. He nearly tore this whole place apart. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I helped Erik into a nearby chair, still looking at Rosie, “slow down. What d’you mean by 'snapped?’ What exactly happened?”

Aiden joined in, his voice muffled by his nursing hand. “What do you think? Look at my nose. The bastard attacked me like a madman, is what happened. He kept going on about how ‘he knew the truth’ and that ‘I couldn’t hide forever,’ and other such nonsense. We had to pull Braxton out of the infirmary just to calm him down. And even that took ages. The man’s as durable as a brick wall.”

I crossed my arms, confused at the whole situation. “The truth...? Can’t hide forever? I’ve no idea what he could mean by that.”

Rosie shrugged. “Neither do I.” 

“Where’s Richie now?” I asked, my mind overwhelmed by how much was going on.

“In his room,” Aiden answered. “Braxton’s with him. You should probably pay them a visit. I know Richie looks up to you. It might help him to see you.”

I waved a casual goodbye and quickly began making my way to the staircase, curious to learn about what on Earth happened while I was gone. 

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I’ll go have a talk with Richie -- see if I can’t figure out why he’s so upset. In the meantime, just take it easy, okay? I know how hard that man can throw a punch, and we don’t need anymore wounded.”

Aiden chuckled, staying still on the floor. “No, we certainly don’t...but by hell are we gonna get them. Be careful, Oz. Infighting can easily rip an entire group of people apart, and I’m worried that we’re about to have a shit ton of it.”


	19. The Truth

From Oswald’s POV

Hurrying up the steps, I made haste to Richie’s room and followed the voices coming out of it, my heart pumping with anxiety as I tried to think of what he could’ve possibly discovered. 

What did he mean by “the truth?” Did he find out who Lady Arkham was? Or, more realistically, did he learn who among us were part of her little elite group? For the first time in a while, I had literally no clue what was going on, and there were no hints I could tie together. Though, that wasn’t saying much. These past few weeks had been nothing but utter chaos. It only made me wonder how much worse this could get.

Pacing towards the wooden door, I wasted no time and reached a hand out to twist the knob, only to be stopped mid-action when I saw someone else emerging from the other side. It was Braxton.

“Ah,” he said upon noticing me, “there you are. I figured you’d stop by sooner or later. Good thing, too.”

“Hugh, what the hell is going on?” I asked. “Is Richie all right? I saw what happened to Aiden downstairs. He looked, err...less than fine.”

Braxton let out a breath. “Yeah. You may be one hell of a boxer, Oz, but I’m still glad you’ve never had to go toe-to-toe with Richie. Lemme tell you, that boy fights like there’s no tomorrow. He gave Aiden a proper beating before I arrived.”

“But why did he beat him?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. You’ll have to ask him yourself. He’s not saying a word ‘round me. All I know is it has somethin’ to do with his family. With William, and his wife.”

I quirked a brow. “William’s wife? That’s odd. Well, I’ll see what I can do. Could I talk to Richie now?”

Braxton stepped aside, allowing me in. “Go ‘head. It’s probably for the best, to be honest.” Hugh sighed, stroking a hand through his hair. “...He sees you as a hero, y’know. Getting him away from William may not’ve seemed like much at the time, but you helped him escape a whole life of pain -- and he’ll never forget it. I hope you won’t either.”

I fell silent for a second, a bit surprised at that. 

“I...didn’t realize how much I meant to him,” I admitted. “I’m flattered. I hope I live up to his image.””

Braxton began walking off. “Well, just be gentle with him, all right, mate? Richie’s in a fragile temper at the moment, and you know how much of a beast he can be in a fight. I don’t want to see him throwin’ you through a wall or anything.”

I smirked sarcastically, sliding past him and into Richie’s room. “You and I both know you’d laugh your arse off if that happened.”

Hugh placed his hat back on. “Never said I wouldn’t.”

Cautiously strolling into Richie’s room as Braxton disappeared, I tried to act as casual as possible, not wanting to alert the man in any way. He was perched on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, and I could hear him breathing heavily. Richie must’ve been pissed.

“...Richie?” I softly called out, lightly knocking on his door. He looked at me over his shoulder, immediately standing up.

“Oz,” the giant man strode over to me, hastily shutting the door. “There you are. We need to leave. Now. We can’t trust these people. We have to go.”

I tried to calm him down. “Whoa, whoa, slow down, Richie. Just tell me what’s going on.”

The other man only ignored me, continuing to ramble to himself. “I knew joining these people was a bad idea. I could tell there was something wrong with them from day one. We never should’ve come here.”

I raised my voice. “Richie. Just...take a step back, okay? Tell me what’s wrong."

Richie took a breath and returned to his spot on the bed, glaring at me as he nervously fiddled with his hands. This was the first time I’d ever seen him this angry, and it only made me worry more. Richie wasn’t exactly tranquil necessarily, but he seemed particularly on-edge today. I began to dread the possibilities. 

“...Oz,” he said, suddenly seeming more sullen than mad, “you ever wondered where my mum was? Why my dad’s wife was never around?”

I shrugged and sat beside him, careful not to invade his personal space. “I always just assumed they split at some point. You tellin’ me that’s not the case?”

Richie shook his head. “...Not even close. My mum was murdered. In cold blood...back when I was just an infant.”

That threw me off guard. “Murdered? Shit, I’m sorry. D’you know who did it?”

Rising back to his feet, Richie began wandering around the room.

“Well, I thought I did. You see, for my entire life, my family and I believed that the Blackridges were responsible. All the evidence pointed towards them, and it made sense in those specific circumstances. We never questioned it. That’s why there’s so much tension between our gangs. Because we thought they killed my mum, Evelyn. Turns out though...we were all wrong.”

I rested my elbows on my knees, leaning forward. “So, who was actually responsible?”

The tall man glowered, a familiar rage sparking in his eyes. I didn’t like where this was going.

“...Aiden’s father. Isaac King.”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of how to react.

“A-Aiden’s father? What...? Why would he--” I slid a hand down my face, “...Richie, are you absolutely certain it was him? How did you even learn about this?”

“I did some digging the day we arrived,” Richie confessed. “Something ‘bout the Insurrection just put me on edge, and I wanted to know the full truth of who we were really dealing with. So, I snuck ‘round a bit, stole some files, and learned everything I could about these people.”

I let out a breath. “Jesus, Richie -- you were spying on them?”

“It sounds paranoid, I know, but it paid off. Trust me.”

I decided to hear Richie out. For now.

“All right,” I said, “what did you find?”

Opening a drawer in his desk, Richie took out a document and handed it to me.

“An assassination contract,” he explained. “It dates back to nearly twenty years ago. And my mum was the target. Isaac King was the assassin.”

I took the document and thoroughly examined its contents, unable to believe what I was seeing. It seemed legitimate enough, and despite the erratic nature of the signatures, the name “Isaac King” was still clear as day. I sighed in frustration.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I muttered. “Why would he kill your mum? Or rather, why would someone hire him to do it? I find it hard to believe that Aiden doesn’t know ‘bout this.”

“Maybe only his sister knows.” Richie suggested.

“Maybe...but it sounds like the two of them were close. Surely Aiden has to have some answers. I’ll go have a word with him, just not now. We still need to get our facts straight, and make sure we know the full story before we start throwin’ accusations around. All right?”

Richie obviously wasn’t entirely on board with that idea, but went along with it anyway.

“...all right,” he mumbled. “Just be quick, okay? We can’t wait forever.”

I returned the document to Richie, looking him directly in the eye.

“I promise, we’ll get to the bottom of this. I just need you to trust me, and I need some time as well. If Aiden knows about this secret, he’ll be guarding it very closely. This information won’t be easy to find -- but we will find it.”

Richie nodded in approval, his brow furrowed in thought. “...okay. I trust you, Oz. I trust you’ll get the job done. ...And thanks for helping me out, by the way. When you’re stuck in a lion’s den like this, it’s good to know you have at least one friend.”

I patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner and smiled warmly, taking my leave. “Don’t mention it. Well, anyways, I gotta get going. Someone’s expecting me and I don’t wanna be late. But I promise, if I find anything, you’ll be the first to know. Just lay low for the moment, and keep your head cool. No more outbursts. The last thing we need is attention.”

Richie waved a casual goodbye, chuckling to himself as he saw me out. “That’s all we have.”


End file.
